


When Our Stars Align

by Blythers, Kirux



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Eventual Crack, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Female Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Humor, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-04-09 11:31:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 35,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4346978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blythers/pseuds/Blythers, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirux/pseuds/Kirux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hobbit/Lord of the Rings AU: This is our first one, give us a break LOL Will detail more later. If you like it, please leave kudos and comments. Thank you \o/</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fanfiction, fun is meant to be had while writing and reading this. We never claimed to be experts on Middle Earth or the like, but we did enjoy both the books and the movies. Rudeness is not appreciated, so, please just contain yourselves. All characters, places, names, the like, belong to J.R.R Tolkien and Peter Jackson, with the exceptions of Faeilân Nyeri, Lysanthir, Mayirah Falathiel, Orothorien, Ellisar, Ainur, Valaina, Isadara, Thorontur and Locien.  
> Characters belonging to Kirux are: Mistamor, Eruva, Ellisar, Galasrinion, Caunardhon, Lostariel, Antien and Iythrinel.
> 
> More tags and character owning will be added as it comes up, and names are subject to change, though that will be explained in notes as we go along. This is our first fanfiction together. I hope you enjoy this as much as we are.  
> -Blythers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As Blythers said this is fanfiction and is meant to be fun. Expect crack. We are not experts only fans of the series. All characters, places, and names belong to the J.R.R Tolkien and Peter Jackson, with the exceptions of our own listed by Blythers. This is our first fanfiction together and we hope you enjoy reading this as much as we enjoy creating it. 
> 
> ~Kirux

Before Frodo Baggins destroyed the One Ring, and before Bilba Baggins even found the Ring, King Oropher and his wife had a son. The prince's name was Thranduil born to be king of the Woodland Realm after his father.  
It was during the Battle of Dagorlad that Thranduil, son of Oropher, King of the Woodland Realm found himself with the burdensome title of king after waking up from his grievous injuries. Armed now with only a heavy crown, burned skin, and a dead father, Thranduil, after learning of Sauron’s defeat by the mortal hands of Isildur, retreated back to his land and to his awaiting wife who now carried within her womb his heir.  
A world away, the Valar watched with heavy hearts. The deaths of their people weighed as heavy as Thranduil’s crown, if not more so. Surly, countless numbers of their people poured into the Hall of Mandos, their loss so great the Maiar were spread across Middle Earth in the attempt to subdue their foes and aid in the wars. Thus the War of the Last Alliance was fought and won, but at great cost.

With the war won and his son Legolas born, Thranduil had finally decided to show his wife the true nature of his face, one withered away by the wrathful flames of the Great Serpents of the North. He was confident in the love they shared, strengthened by the birth of their son. But, sometimes, love is not enough. His wife, now fearful and disgusted of his visage left him dismayed. Thranduil now felt that no one shall ever gaze upon his true face, ruined by the flames of wrath and ruin. Not even his son, for he could not bear to see the same horror reflected upon his child’s face.

Unknown to Thranduil his guard, his childhood friend Iythrinel knew of his scars, she did not look upon them with disgust or fear, but with sadness, regret, and anger at herself. What kind of guard was she if she could not even protect her king? But the proof of her attempt was burned into her flesh and bones, scars similar to his own. After seeing how Thranduil felt of his own scars due to his wife's horror Iythrinel saw fit to keep hidden her own. 

No longer able to face the one she called her husband and king, Thranduil’s wife left behind her family and journeyed to Aman, leaving Thranduil cold and closed, showing a cruel face to all but one; his Little Leaf. Only Legolas gazed at him with love and affection, with the exception of one other, to whom Thranduil was completely blind. Even after watching him be married off, watching his wife comfort him after the death of his father, Iythrinel stayed, guarding him as she always had, since their childhood. But with his blindness, Iythrinel had no one to guard her in kind. Many nights she awoke, screaming, gasping for air, lungs full of flame and smoke. Fear for not only herself, but for her King. Images replayed over and over, her being too late, Thranduil being lost to her forever. And every night, as she stumbled around her room, trying to regain composure, she was met with her reflection, the memory that would never fade.

With all of this Iythrinel found one comfort. This was in Thranduil’s son, a bundle of joy and beauty. With love and pride that a mother feels for her own she watched him grow and swore to herself that she would never allow any kind of pain upon this child if she could help it. Never would he know dragon’s fire, never would he know sorrow. Only love and happiness. It was through this child that Thranduil remembered that Legolas was not the only light in his life. And it all started with a braid.

Legolas, so enamoured by the female elf guard who often played with and watched over him had one day came up to his father with a request. “Ada, would you help me braid my hair like emel’s?” Thranduil confused as to why Legolas would request him of something the child should not know questioned him. 

“What ever do you mean child, your mother did not fancy braids in her hair.” Legolas cutely pouted, melting Thranduil’s heart a little. 

“Emel, she has really pretty hair thats different from the others, it is long and curly and kind of red. she has a braid on the side of her head like this.” and Legolas pulled up some of his hair in an attempt to show his father. A scowl brought dark eyebrows down over ice blue eyes, and Thranduil opened his mouth to question further, when Iythrinel walked into the room, knocking on the doorframe first. Looking up, realization entered his eyes. Red hair, the braid; Legolas meant his guard. It was proved even further when an excited Legolas bounced happily and pointed at the female.

Iythrinel upon hearing Legolas’ excitement looked up to find his little finger pointed in her direction and further up ice cold blue eyes gazed upon her in recognition. For a moment, pride, and joy spread through her chest. She was honored to be called the mother of such a child. But, even pure thoughts sometimes turn sour, as Thranduil’s eyes hardened and he looked back down at his son.

“Iythrinel is not your mother, Legolas. Never call her that again.” 

Iythrinel felt the deep pain in her heart at Thranduil’s comment but continued on as Legolas looked at his father with confusion. “My apologies my king, If I had known I would not allow the prince to call me as such.” 

Legolas walked closer to his father placing small hands upon his knees “But father she treats me like the others mothers treat them, does that not make her my own?” 

Not giving Thranduil time to comment Iythrinel knelt down to Legolas’ height. “My prince, though I treat you as such I am not your mother, calling me so is disrespect against her and not something I or your father will allow. Have respect and love for the woman who birthed you and brought you into this world for without her I would not be given the honor of watching over you. Do you understand?”

A dejected Legolas looked down towards the floor, but nodded in understanding, trying his hardest not to sniffle. When Iythrinel looked back up towards Thranduil, he seemed satisfied, dipping his head to her. Feeling pain for the child as he held back tears, Iythrinel placed a hand upon Legolas’ face. “Do not be sad, just because I will not allow you to call me your mother does not make my feelings anything less for you. Now go I do believe you have archery training yes?” At this Legolas perked off and nodded. 

“I do! Good day Ada.” Legolas bowed his head and scuttled out of the room. 

“I will not tolerate this again, Iythrinel. You will do well to remember that.” 

She bowed her head, placing her hand over her heart, “Yes, my King.” A few moments of silence, and then his voice filled the air again.  
“I do feel better knowing someone watches over him when I cannot.” 

Iythrinel hid a small smile and without thinking let slide from her lips “He reminds me of a princess I once knew.” Hearing her own voice say that and the silence that filled the room after she stiffened fear gripping her heart. Keeping her head down she rushed to apologize “My King I am so sorry, I did not mean to say that I.” she was however interrupted by the slight sound of laughter being contained. Looking up in confusion her eyes widened in wonder at the sight of a smile on Thranduil’s face. Something she had not seen unless in the presence of Legolas. It was genuine and bright, filling her heart with a sudden joy.

“It has been a while since I have seen such a smile on your face.” She said, testing her limits with her old friend. 

Thranduil opened his eyes and looked upon her. “It has been a while since I have bothered to remember a dear friend and her ridiculous nickname for her king, Nel.” Her heart beat rapidly, she felt so relieved hearing her nickname from his lips once more. His impressive eyebrows raised in amusement. “Legolas truly admires you, he was asking for his hair to be braided like your own.” 

Iythrinel lifted a hand touching her braid. “I feel honored. Truly but if you do not wish it to be.” 

Thranduil shook his head. “It is fine, just unexpected to hear that word fall from his lips.” Iythrinel closed her eyes feeling peaceful and happy. 

“It is good to finally talk to you like this again, Thran.” Thranduil bows his head, memories of their childhood flitting in his mind. 

“To you as well, Nel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who have a harder time pronouncing or just wonder how we're pronouncing them. I'll add as each character is introduced:  
> Iythrinel - Eeth-Ren-Nail


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2000 years after the War of the Last Alliance, the elves face a problem they are unaware of, but the Valar are always watching.  
> (Someone pulls a Katniss.)

(Roughly 2000 years later)

Manwë glanced up from his scrolls with a raised, silver brow. The worry that presented itself on Irmo’s face was cause for confusion. The tall Valar, taller than most, walked as if gliding, his feet barely touching the marble flooring as he moved. Valar of Dreams and desires, the only reason he would leave his wife’s side and their gardens was if the situation was dire.

“I assume you’ve had a vision, brother?” Manwë asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, but it carried easily to the other male’s ears. 

As soon as he was within reaching distance of their King, Irmo swept gracefully to one knee, bowing his head in a show of respect. His long, coal colored hair fell over his shoulders, completely masking his face.

“I am afraid so. Our elves are in even more danger than we first feared.”

“Stand, and speak with me. What news have you?” Manwë stood, just as graceful, if not more so as the Valar of Wind, his cloak barely making a sound as it was swept back behind him, enabling him to walk. His “brother” followed suit, staring down at the floor with dark eyes, thinking before speaking, choosing his words carefully.

“Their numbers are dwindling, their powers waning. It has become worse since the last War.”

“They’ve been at peace for many years now. Surely they only need time-”

“They are running out of time, brother. It has been two thousand years, roughly. Something must be done. More and more are giving up hope and sailing. Others died and fell into my brother’s Halls.” It was the first time he’d ever spoken so harshly, his voice deep and vibrating with power, demanding the attention of the King. Instead of taking it badly, Manwë only peered at him with yet another raised brow. Irmo dipped his head in apology, but Manwë only smiled.

“Perhaps it is time all of our people sailed, and left the mortals to their own demise. We should call a council. What is it you suggest?”

“The Elvenking, Thranduil. He is still a much needed part of the future. If he does not continue on, and he chooses to sail, many things will change, and not for the better I fear. Ensure the continuation of the elves by placing a Valar with them. The Elves of the Greenwood are the worst off. Thranduil has responsibility, but he grows weary. His purpose is not yet fulfilled.” 

Manwë stopped walking, halting all progression he was making towards the Throne Room. He turned slowly, pale blue eyes taking in the other male. Then he gave a great sigh; and they wondered why he held a head of "gray" hair.

“My fellow Valar, you are summoned to meet in the Hall of Eru. There are situations that must be met and handled with care.”

He sat, slowly, in the tall pale throne, and waited. Irmo stood at the head, a little off to the right, as he was the one to bring up such things. Slowly, one by one, the other Valar appeared, some fading in subtly, walking in, and others appearing in a blinding flash of light. He lifted a brow at the more dramatic entrances, and crossed his arms. All arrived, and after a moment the deep voice of Eru filled the cavernous room.

“Irmo, tell us what you know.” The disembodied voice commanded, and Irmo cleared his throat before replaying his entire dream for them. They watched, worried faced, and Nienna cried even harder than usual. 

“What do you suggest we do?” Eru’s voice echoed around them again, and the others glanced around at each other, then finally glanced upon their king, who stiffened under their scrutiny.

“Well do not only look to me. I called a council for a reason.” He looked over them, pursing his lips, and beside him, Varda gave a soft chuckle, melting his heart.

From a corner, Estë moved forward, a soft light emanating from her. Her blonde hair hung bone straight, golden in the dim light. Irmo turned to take his wife in, his eyes narrowed as if he knew what she was to say before she even spoke.

“I offer to give my strength to your creations. I offer them healing and strengthening of their blood.”

A collective gasp rose, and instantly Irmo let out a harsh, “No,” She lifted a brow at him and he gentled his voice, realizing his error. She was his wife, not his object. “You cannot. You will become too weak..”

“And they must not know of our interference. It may disrupt their path.” Vairë interrupted, turning her silver gaze to the king, stepping forward.

“Then let us bring our kin home. Their time should be done.” Tulkas opened his large arms, gesturing wildly in his distress.

“The time of the elves is not yet over. I swear there will be dire consequences if they are brought home too soon.” Varda opened her mouth and spoke words for the first time. The strain there had Manwë reaching for her hand.

Bickering commenced, loud and angry. Fear had worked it’s way into their hearts, troubling them, turning them on each other. The only voice of reason came from the very back of the room, it’s holder casually leaning against the wall, playing with a small dagger.

“We should strengthen them by blood, of course. But more directly, and indirectly than anyone has suggested.” Oromë said softly, and still his voice carried. Silently in the background he had been thinking, his dark midnight blue eyes staring into the hazel of his wife’s. He knew what he must do, and Vána knew that it was a terrible, terrible idea. There was no way that what he was suggesting was going to blow over well with their daughter nor her husband, but sometimes, sacrifices had to be made. Now they felt like weeping like Nienna.

“Of what do you speak, Oromë?” Manwë asked, but before he could tell his plan, Eru’s voice broke in again.

“Summon your family here, Oromë. We will decide then.”

 

*******

Caramel skin shimmered with ethereal light as she danced and sang with her mother, father and three siblings under the stars. Wild waves and curls bounced merrily around her face in a heavy mass as she lifted her hands and danced the circle around the small fire they had built. Her mother feared that her daughter would ever decide to wear her hair straight, scared the mass would make the small girl fall over it would be so long. The color was beautiful, all the browns of the earth, like her grandfather and her father. She didn’t get the lovely strawberry blonde of herself or her grandmother, but she was given their eyes, almond shaped, and ever changing hazel. No one could ever tell if they were green, brown, grey, or blue, and they soon realized it depended on her mood. Her skin had grown an almost golden brown, darkened by the kiss of the sun. Nielíqui and Òmar had been gifted with a beautiful daughter, one of a curious nature and a temper like her grandfather, ever defiant and free spirited. 

But she was beautiful and adept at plants like her grandmother. Her voice and dance she did indeed get from her parents, and her quick learning of instruments was also from them. She liked hunting with her grandfather, planting with her grandmother, and then times like these were spent with her parents. She loved animals, and for her coming of age her family created and presented her with a beautiful white tiger, larger than any seen before, and she named him Ainur to honor them all at once. Faeilân Nyeri, treasured daughter of the Valar, became a skilled warrior, fighting on the back of her Ainur, and by his side, and she became skilled with many weapons. 

It was on this night, one she thought to be like any other, that she found herself in the Great Halls of Eru, clutching the hand of her little sister Isadara, watching with grating nerves as the other members of the Valar stared at them with sad eyes. They had been celebrating Isadara’s coming of age, their father singing, mother dancing with her children, and her grandparents playing instruments as they sat by the fire. It had been a joyous and happy occasion, even their older brothers Thorontur and Locien had joined in the fun, kicking dirt up as they moved their feet in time to the song. It was with troubled eyes that their grandmother and grandfather had left them, being summoned. And soon after, the entire family was there, the boys standing with their father and the two girls standing between their father and mother. Nielíqui wrapped a reassuring arm around her girls and smiled.

“Forgive us for calling your family away during your celebration. But it is not without great cause.” Manwë started. He looked to Oromë, and with sorrow, he told his family of the elves’ troubles and their plan to ensure their survival.

“And you chose my daughter for this!?” Nielíqui’s instant outrage had her husband’s arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her away before she could latch her nails into her father’s face. But even as he pulled her away, Òmar was stepping in front of her, nostrils flaring.

“Our daughter has just come of age, and already you wish to take her from us? To give her to an elvenking? Not only is he hardly worthy, but she is still just a child!” He turned to the rest of the Valar, all with downcast eyes, ashamed to meet them. “And you all agreed before even bringing it to us first? What family is this?!” His voice boomed on the last part, and the small family’s outrage was only silenced by the commanding, deafening voice of Eru.

“Silence! It was meant to be discussed, and if I say she will go, she will go!” his voice softened, and he added, “It is, as of now, the only way.”

Fae’s breathing was ragged, and both she and her siblings looked to their parents in fear, and their grandparents in utter confusion. The betrayal was enough to make her sick to her stomach. And Isadara, the poor child was shaken, literally trembling against her older sister’s side, and the pleas of their two older brothers, Thorontur and Locien, fell on deaf ears. Again her breathing became ragged, and as she looked down into her sister’s eyes, the fear there broke her, and her mind was made up, and she was stepping through her family, parting their bodies with force as she moved forward.

“No! Not her. Take me! Take me in her stead!” her voice rang out, successfully silencing everyone in the chamber, including Eru. She hadn’t even realized who had spoken until all eyes fell on her. The only thing that broke the silence was Nienna’s constant wailing in the background. Well...shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another pronunciation, as promised:
> 
> Faeilân Nyeri - Fay-Lan Ni-Ree  
> Isadara - Is-uh-Dar-uh  
> Thorontur - Thor-un-Ter  
> Locien - Los-See-En


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the verdict is~ *Drum roll*

Iythrinel sat upon the steps leading up to Thanduil’s throne, reading a book. They sat in comfortable silence when an elf came up with a letter in hand. "My king, I bring you a letter." Iythrinel looked at Thranduil who casted her a glance, huffing she stood and accepted the letter from the elf’s hands. Walking back up she stopped in front of Thranduil.

"The letter my king." She said and whispered after. "One which you could have easily retrieved from him yourself might I add." His eyes gleamed.

"Why must I do it when I have you?" He asked and took the letter from her hands. Swiftly the elven king opened the parchment dismissing the elf and began to read. The more he read, the wider his eyes became, his mouth moving swiftly, but no words coming out, reading to himself. And then he paused...and then he read it again. Four times he read the letter, his eyes becoming more haunted with each reading.

“Thran?” Nel asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. “What is it?”

His heart threatening to burst from his chest, he cleared his throat, but spoke to her, his voice barely above a whisper.

“A Letter, from Mithrandir.” He placed a trembling hand upon her own. “He has found it.” Concerned for her friend and king, Iythrinel put aside the letter and kneeled in front of him.

“What has Mithrandir found?” He looked into her eyes.

“Mother's crown, The Advir of Moonlit Meadow Pearls.”

Iythrinel lightly gasped, “But they were lost to the sea with....” She stopped short, not wanting to fully talk about Thranduil's mother's demise.

“Some elves had found the crown washed up on the shore, they thought it a gift from Ulmo. Mithrandir tells that they are willing to part with it but,” He paused thinking about the conditions to be met for their return, pain gripped his heart.

A hand placed itself on his face and he looked into Orange-brown eyes. “But what Thran?”

A stuttered breath, “A daughter, they request I marry her to protect her for she is the result of a forbidden union, one highly frowned upon.”

Iythrinel lowered her hand from his face and grasped his own, feeling it tremble, “Must you marry?”

He bowed his head. “The Advir of Moonlit Meadow Pearls, is sacred Nel, they.” he took in a shaky breath, his hand clenching her own. “They belonged to mother.”

Iythrinel closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his own. “Do what you see fit to bring your mother’s crown back home Thran. If needed I will do whatever you ask of me.” With a sigh she slowly stood letting his hands go from her own.

“Call upon Deslein.” Thranduil said and looked up, eyes glimmering with determination, “I have a response I must get to Mithrandir before night's end.”

Iythrinel bowed, “Of course my king.”

 

*********

 

“I must admit, you would not have been my first choice.” Faeilân barely bothered to spare her grandfather a glance as she brushed her hair into parts, preparing it for a braid. His tone was light, trying for a joke.

“Oh? I wasn’t aware any of your blood should have been a choice at all.”

Sadness crept into his eyes, but she didn’t turn to see. His hair, long and red brown, like fresh dark mud and red clay fell into his eyes as he let his head drop.

“Fae, I never meant-”

She cut him off, looking up and meeting his eyes in the mirror, “Rather you meant to or not, it has been done. I am going and Isarada is safe from your stupidity and selfishness.”

For the first time, anger shone in the depths of Oromë’s eyes, and she prepared herself. Her grandfather’s anger was legend, people went so far as to go out of their way to avoid angering him. She held her breath, counted to ten, released the breath, and he seemed to be doing the same.

“We are running out of time. Out of options. This, this is exactly why you would not have been my first choice. You lack discipline, you think you rule. Your word is not law. You are going to have Thranduil running for the hills in no time. You are too much like me. Isadara is sweet and-”

“And a child.” Her voice was soft, and she went back to her braid, dismissing him with a, “I will do what I must, but not for you, and not for the Valar, but for my blood, because that is what family does.”

When he was gone, she slumped forward, letting out a shallow breath that rattled in her lungs, burning. Unshed tears fought for release, but she shoved them back. Her thoughts went back to that room, the pale marble, cold, and in her opinion right now, cruel. Her sister’s face, and the faces on the rest of the Valar when they’d turned to look at her. She was sure her own face matched their shock; she hadn’t even been aware she’d spoken. But after a bit of silence, a small chuckle had left the unseen lips of Eru.

“It is decided then. Your sacrifice is accepted. Forever will you be honored by all of Aman.”

She’d ignored his words, ignored the looks of shock and horror on her parents and siblings’ faces. And since then here she sat, in her room, wanting nothing more than to be alone. One couldn’t say that she regret her decision to take the place of her sister, but she did wish that there had never been the need. She stood slowly, finishing her braid, and turned just as another knock sounded on her door. Her shoulders drooped, and her head fell back. This was growing to be tiresome.

“Enter.” She spoke softly, confident that her voice would reach whichever being waited patiently on the other side. The door opened, and a cloud of white hair brushed into the room. She sighed, then offered him a soft smile, “You, I can say, I am happy to see, Olórin.”

The male smiled, giving a deep bow, his right hand over his heart, “The news has just come to me, my Lady, and though it saddens me deeply, I have been appointed not only to watch over you, but to actually...participate.”

Chills spread up her spine, and she eyed him suspiciously. Things Gandalf the grey got involved in always got a little...messy. She cleared her throat, and grey eyes lifted to meet her own. She nodded to indicate it was alright for him to carry on with his explanation. He stood slowly, straightening himself.

“Word has already been sent, by Mithrandir,” He gave a little smile at that, “And already King Thranduil is sending word back. I expect his reply at any point in time now.”

“How did you even get an elvenking to agree to this?”

“Ahh, and that, my Lady, is what I have come to show you.”

From the left sleeve of his cloak, Olórin produced a small round crown, glittering and shining like a thousand stars. In the center, a larger pearl graced it, and to her it looked like the moon.

“What, in the name of Eru, is that?” her voice was full of wonder, taking a tentative step forward, fingers reaching out to caress the little pearls as if it were the most delicate thing in the world.

“This is an Advir of the Greenwood elves. More importantly, their king. It was his mother’s. It’s made from the product of the Moon Pearls, from the Moonlit Meadow flowers,” He smiled as he started his story, her face lit up like a child, as if she were there in the meadow he spoke of.  
“It was said the flowers, looked like little lilies, but were black like the night sky and from the center growing from the little stems are pearls that look like stars in the sky, pearls that held their light. They only bloomed at night, in the summer, when they sky was cloudless and the moon and stars shone brightly on the meadow. But that part of the Greenwood has been empty for thousands of years, now. The Advir of Moonlit Meadow Pearls, this crown, Isilme Rî. Ulmo retrieved it, as it was lost to sea when an orc of the war, who even in death, refused to let the Lady Oropher go, and dragged her down into the depths. His name was lost in time.” He paused, and her eyes clouded over in sadness. For as beautiful as Aman was, it was full of such sorrow sometimes she could hardly stand it. And now she was to be a part of that.

“Aulë repaired this so I would have the honor of presenting it to you, and you in turn are to present this as incentive and wedding gift to Thranduil. The crown is his birthright, after all.” The Maiar nodded wisely, and Faeilân gave him a soft, sad smile, lifting her hand to his face. The male bent forward so she could reach, as he was almost seven feet tall. Her fingers were light as they glided over his cheek, and his skin crinkled at the corners of his kind eyes.

“I am glad it will be you with me, and no one else.”

“Should not be a problem, young Fae, so long as you remember to call me Mithrandir, and even old man will be acceptable on occasion.” He was proud of himself when a genuine smile and soft peals of laughter filled her chambers.

Placing a kiss on her forehead, he dipped in a bow again, leaving the crown on the table next to her bed, and saw himself out, “Sleep well, my Lady, or as well as you can. For on the morrow, you will meet your new…” He trailed off, and really, there was no need for it to be spoken, so he gave her a weak smile, and finished his sentence with, “destiny.” And closed her door.

Ainur purred softly, crawling into the bed as she lay down, curling around her protectively. For a moment, she stared into his celestial blue eyes, and she felt the connection there like an electric current as the tiger entered her mind.

**_Do not be troubled, do not hold a heavy heart. I will always be with you._ **

Her heart did lift, hearing Ainur’s deep baritone, and he nuzzled his head against her neck, almost knocking her off the bed, making her laugh.

“If you do not kill me first.”


	4. Chapter 4

“A marriage?!” Legolas swiftly walked closer to his father who sat upon his throne. Slight anger was in the prince’s eyes. Iythrinel, standing behind her king placed a hand upon his shoulder.

“She will be arriving shortly. I would have informed you sooner but you were out on patrol with the captain.” Thranduil answered dipping his head towards the Silvan elf who bowed her head.

Legolas shook his head “Why have you decided to marry? To a woman you do not know at that? Someone you do not love?” Legolas’ eyes flickered to Iythrinel quickly without notice by his father.

“I will reveal to you my reasons after she has arrived, without what she carries you will not understand.” Thranduil intertwined his hands,

“You would marry a second time?” Legolas finally tried. Iythrinel felt Thranduil tense under her hand.

“I have my reasons my son, now go rest, you will come with me to meet her.” Dismissed, Legolas left the room in an angered manner followed by the others leaving Thranduil and Iythrinel alone.

“He should understand once you tell him of your full plans.” She said walking to the front of the throne.

He leaned back into the throne, “I do not like seeing my son’s anger directed at me.” He said.

“It won’t be for long, I am sure, Legolas is understanding.” Thranduil looked up to her, his oldest friend.

“Is what I am doing right?” He asked, feeling doubt in his decisions.

Iythrinel paused then knelt before him in a bow, “It matters not what I think, just know that no matter what I shall follow your word, my king, my friend.”

But in her heart Iythrinel was filled with sorrow for she must once again watch Thranduil marry.

 

*****

 

In the early morning of the day, or so it was on Arda, Faeilân was dressed and already set out, walking down the long path that led to the Elvenking’s front gates. The sorrow she’d watched cross her mother’s features had almost been her undoing. She’d wanted to tell them all to kiss her. . .something very unlady like. But what had kept her strong was the knowledge that if she did not go, Isadara would have to. Her younger sister had cried, clinging to her, asking her why she’d had to go and throw herself to the wolves. Fae gently reminded her that, either way, herself or Isadara, it would have been farewell. That had only made her sister cry harder. Her mother cried as well, only her brothers and father stood there, proud, and weary.

“Be safe, Faeilân.” her father spoke, his usually lively voice soft and frail, cracking as he held back tears. She wrinkled her nose at him, gently tapping his jaw with her fist. He smiled, then looked at Olórin, “Take care of her.”

Olórin dipped his head, and after giving quick hugs to her family, she fled before she could change her mind, Ainur and Olórin hot on her tail. On the way, Olórin, er, Mithrandir rather, told her a bit about Thranduil and his history. Many things made this situation...awkward, to say the least. First it was an arranged marriage, something unheard of among the elves. They believed fully in marrying for love, but this male had been set up with his wife, twice now. Rather he grew to love the she-elf or not, she was still an arrangement.

Second, almost unheard of, was an elf remarrying after losing their first spouse, especially after already having a two-thousand year old son. Or any child period. But, according to her family, their marriage would ensure the elf kingdom’s survival. They seemed to be doing well, though, was her observation as she looked around. Mithrandir had also told her that the King was under the impression that he was doing another elven family a “favor,” protecting their daughter from her inevitable destruction, as she was a mixed race of Moriquendi and Calaquendi, and therefore unaccepted. Which was not true at all, really. And of course, he was being paid handsomely. She wanted to scoff; paid for ensuring his own survival. And even if not for his survival, being paid for a favor! What a joke.

So this was how she found herself standing in front of a tall, thin elf with long pale hair and cold eyes, staring up at him with a wrinkled nose. She tilted her head, and he did the same, both of them sizing each other up, judging before even speaking if the other was worthy. Beside him and to him right was another male, one only a bit shorter than the giant elvenking. Fae could only assume he was Thranduil’s son, Legolas. To his left, a pretty little elven woman, even shorter than Fae, which made her lift a brow. And behind them, an entire platoon of guards. Well, wasn’t this a royal welcome.

Mithrandir had taken on the guise of just that, Mithrandir, Gandalf the Grey, his cloak drab and his staff clicking along the ground as they walked. When they stopped, he dipped his head, giving Thranduil a small bow.  
“Ah, Thranduil. It has been a while.” he said humbly, his voice strained, as with age. Fae wanted to giggle.  
“Indeed it has, Mithrandir.” was all he really said as he again took Fae in, making her want to fidget. But she lifted her chin, her eyes narrowing slightly, before she relented and gave a small bow. And she only did that because she caught a swift elbow to the side from her escort.

An infuriating smirk crossed the Elvenking’s features, and she resisted the urge to curl her lip, Ainur growling as he pranced around to stand in front of her. Thranduil’s eyes widened and he ignored the coo from the female beside him. Though it made Fae smile a little to herself.

“And what, pray tell, is that beast?” which got another growl from Ainur.

“That, beast, would be Ainur. He is sensitive and would appreciate it if you would-” she was cut off again by Gandalf’s elbow, receiving him a hostile glare.

And back to sizing each other up they went. Until finally, the awkward silence was broken by his words. And he was rude. The first words from his mouth being, “You’re more curvy than most, aren’t you?”

Faeilân bristled, Mithrandir let his shoulders droop in an “And so it begins” fashion and gave a sigh, a sharp inhale was heard, and instead of striking him Fae retaliated with words, in perfect Sindar elvish, “And your eyebrows do not match your face, nor your hair, elf. Were they not attached I’d believe they were caterpillars.”

With that, she turned on her heel and left him. She thought she’d heard the distinct snort of the female, but she paid it no mind, and also ignored the grumble of, “Well that went well.” from Gandalf. If she were being honest, Thranduil was quite handsome, and she liked his eyebrows. If she were being even more honest with herself she’d also enjoyed his voice. But she’d definitely enjoyed the look of shock on his face as she’d stormed away from his palace and into the woods, turning a seething glare on the guards who tried to follow after her. Even Ainur chuffed at the elvenking, making him take a step back, thus causing the female next to him to place herself before the tiger before the animal flounced off, following close behind Faeilân. She hadn’t even made it into his palace before he’d made her want to murder him.

Her heart was heavy all over again, her head falling back against a tree she leaned against. Her grandfather had been right; she was not the one match for this duty. But she couldn’t very well shirk it now. She sighed, her fingers about to sink into the fur of Ainur, who was speaking softly to her, complaining about how he didn’t like the elf. But then she heard a sound.

She had stayed by the river, following it’s path so she wouldn’t get lost, but now, curious, she pushed herself up from where she had lay back on her giant cat, and moved forward through the few trees that kept her vision from the full extent of the waters. And that was where she first saw the mortal.

He was handsome, strong for a mortal. Lifting barrels from the river with an ease that most could not accomplish. He was casual as he bit into an apple, holding it in his mouth as he stretching his arms upward, a loud pop heard in his back, making him groan. She couldn’t help the small gasp that left her lips, and he turned quickly, arrow nocked and aimed right at her heart faster than she’d seen any mortal move ever. Fae held her breath, and after blinking a moment he dropped them to his side, placing the arrow back into where ever it had come from and clutching the bow in his left hand so he could let the apple fall from his mouth and into his right.

**_Faeilân, what is happening? Do you have need of me-_ **

**_No, Ainur, stay back. There is no danger here. Stay there until I tell you. Please._ **

She could tell he didn’t want to, but she felt him relent, heard the soft sound of him settling back into the brush, a sound only sensitive ears would be able to pick up.

“Apologies, my lady. I thought you were a danger.” He dipped his head, though his eyes couldn’t seem to help themselves, remaining on her face as if captivated.

She couldn’t reply, she only knew some forms of Elvish and Valarin. She could easily learn a language, especially one as simple as the common tongue. But he needed to speak more first so she could grasp it.

He frowned, and looked around before looking at her again, taking a tentative step forward, “Are you lost?” He seemed to be looking without trying to be rude, determine if she was an elf or a human woman. After a moment of her just staring, and him doing the same, she was sure he thought she was dim, and the effect was no doubt worsened by the smile she gave him. Great. Perfect. Fantastic. This was exactly what she needed.

Though, he gave her a little smile in return and lifted his hand to her, “My lady?” That was all she needed. She took a deep breath and then struggled to form a sentence, her accent thick.

“Lost?” she tried, and he lifted a brow. Fae’s scowl deepened, and she looked down and tried again. “I am not lost. I was startled. Did not…expect…to meet anyone…here.” The sentence was awkward and thrown together, her and this damn broken common tongue, but he seemed to grasp what she was saying and gave a small laugh, his hand still sticking out. He seemed to notice this and flushed, pulling it back, but she reached forward and grasped it quickly. He didn’t seem to mind, if not a little startled by her speed.

“Nor did I.” his voice was just above a whisper, and she looked up to see him staring at her again. His eyes were the most beautiful, naturally bi-toned light brown and grey she’d ever seen. And in this magical moment, Ainur had finally decided he’d had enough suspense, and forced his way out of the underbrush with an ominous growl.

 ** _That is it, Lady Fae, I’m com- Who is that!?_** And that was what Bard had heard as a growl, not the words, but the deep growl. Ainur moved himself in front of Fae, who rolled her eyes and wanted the earth to swallow her whole in that moment, and the poor mortal fell back, almost falling into one of his barrels, the apple he’d been holding sailing through the air and into the rushing waters of the river. He made a wild grab for his bow, raising the hostility in Ainur.

**_My lady! Look out!_ **

“My lady, run!”

She took a moment to appreciate the fact that men, no matter the species, were idiots.

“No! It is fine! Settle down, the both of you!” She reached forward, grasping hold of Ainur’s tail and hauled him back. The horror that ran across the mortal’s face was hilarious.

“You know this beast!?” the brown haired man asked, incredulous, and again, Fae rolled her eyes.

**_BEAST? WHY DO THEY THINK TO CA- WHO DO THEY THINK THEY ARE? The nerve of these mortals and elves! Already I yearn to return to Aman._ **

Fae signed and let her head fall, dismayed as Ainur complained and bitched in her head, roaring angrily at Bard.

**_Will you settle down? I did tell you not to come out, after all._ **

Shock showed across the tiger’s face, making Fae smile a little, and he chuffed for the second time in only about an hour. With one last glare at the human, he bared his teeth and shuffled back into the wilderness, tail high in the air.

**_Well, fine._ **

“He has an attitude, does he?” she turned her head to see the cautious, but friendly smile crossing the male’s face, and she found herself smiling back, relieved, though she couldn’t fathom why.

“I...am sorry. He is..protective?” The more the mortal spoke, the better she got at it, and so she asked for what she’d wanted to know since she’d seen him. “What is your name? I am called Faeilân. ”

He stepped forward then, more than willing, and a bright, genuine smile lit up his features, taking her breath.

“Bard. My name is Bard.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of kicks and barrels.

Iythrinel watched the elven bride-to-be walk off in anger. Feeling slighted herself, she turned to Thranduil and kicked him in the shin, muttering something about tree kings at which he jolted and looked down to her with curious eyes. However she turned away from him and crossed her arms.

"For what reason did you deem to kick me for?" he asked. A sigh from legolas had him turn, and the look on his son's face truly made him feel dim.

"You've insulted her, indirectly but still, really father?" Realization dawned on Thranduil's face. His friend also carried a body that differed from most elves, shortness aside.

Iythrinel clicked her tongue and spun back around, "Either way, when she comes back you must apologize Thranduil, your insult was uncalled for. You truly are horrible with first impressions."

Thranduil's brows furrowed "I was only speaking what I thought. I should not be at fault for how the woman took it."

Legolas sighed "It is still on you Father." Iythrinel sighed slightly yanking on a braid.

"Remember your plan, Thran, angering her will not do you any service. Now shall I go to clean up this mess?"

At this, they were interrupted by Mithrandir. "A mess indeed, but nothing to be too worried about I'm sure." He smiled, reassuringly, but even still, uncomfortably. Fae was not known for her patience or tame temper. Iythrinel waved a hand, dismissing the unease she could see in his eyes.

“I shall do what I can to correct this mess, I’m used to cleaning up after my king after all, you know this well Mithrandir.” She smiled at the old man ignoring the look Thranduil was using on her.

Legolas jumped in, “It’s true Nel deals with alot of things Father is prone to mess up.”

Iythrinel nodded grinning and shooting a now thoroughly annoyed Thranduil a mischievous look, “The absolute worst at first impressions.”

The king broke royal character and smacked her lightly on the head. “Enough of that now,” He turned to Mithrandir “Do you carry the Advir? The Isilme Rî?”

Mithrandir looked at him with a raised brow and made a rude sound, “It was never mine to carry. You insulted the carrier. Now how do you feel about that?”

“She over rea-”

“Not her. The beast, as you called him.”

Iythrinel perked up at the mention of the large white tiger. “That beautiful tiger? He carries the crown? You must tell me his name if he is in possession of one, Mithrandir!” She asked excitedly hand actually clutching the front of her tunic like that of a child. Thranduil had felt slightly betrayed by his guards fawning over the beast, it had threatened him after all!

Mithrandir, however, gave Iythrinel a fond smile, and dipped his head to her, “His name is Ainur, my lady. He wa a gift from her parents.”

Iythrinel looked to the ground and whispered the tigers name. “I envy her, I wish I had such a companion by my side.”

Legolas turned to his father, a slender brow raised, “Perhaps you should somehow acquire a large feline for Nel?”

Thranduil tossed his head to the side, hair billowing behind him at the movement, “I should think not, just the one will be more than enough I can assure you.”

Iythrinel shook her head. “Enough about that, we really should do something about this.”

“And what do you propose?” There was Thranduil’s haughty voice again, taking no responsibility for what he’d done. That earned him a sharp look from all present.

Growing tired of his thoughtlessness, Iythrinel answered somewhat coldly “Mithrandir and I shall go out and get your Queen to be my King.” And with that said she whistled and a horse came up. Jumping onto the mares back she bowed her head in Mithrandir’s direction.

Thranduil watched with a raised brow, but made no move to stop them, “Very well then.” Was all he said as he turned on his heel, the rest of the guard parting to let him through before trailing behind him.

“Should I accompany you?” Legolas asked softly, leaning closer to Nel, out of earshot of his father, his eyes soft with sympathy and worry.

Nel shot the archer a smile, “No, go and be with your father, as much as I trust the guards I have trained myself I will feel better if you are with him.” In reality Iythrinel could not handle Legolas’ pitying looks for the moment.

Mithrandir saddled himself on a horse, one he’d left at the end of the trail for the guards to bring up, and the poor guards had just gotten back with the horse when he’d taken it from them again. “Let us go then, Lady Iythrinel. She could not be far, and night will soon fall.”

****

Bard smiled as he got yet another laugh out of the woman who didn’t seem to mind sitting next to him on a dirty barrel, despite wearing fine silks and velvet. For what seemed like the thousandth time, he caught himself staring at her, in awe by the way her eyes sparkled like the sun reflecting over rippling waves. He lifted a brow.

“You are an elf, aren’t you?” he asked softly, and she choked on the apple she’d bitten into. She looked at him with a shocked expression, then cleared her throat, smiling a little behind the hand she used to cover her mouth.

“Is it so obvious?” she asked him once her mouth was clear, and then it was his turn to laugh.

“No, not very.” he winked, and she smiled, gracefully sliding from the barrel and dusting off her dress. They both lifted their heads as they heard another growl, and the great cat nudged his head from the trees. Fae dipped her head to him as if she understood before turning back to Bard, who held a curious expression on his face.

“I must go.” Her eyes held a bit of sadness, and he knew without a doubt that his own did. And before he could think better of it, he spoke up, his words rushed.

“Will I ever see you again?”

Faeilân’s heart broke, put itself back together, and broke again as she watched the emotions play across the mortal Bard’s face. she gave him a sad smile, and started to say no, but instead, a different sentence all together fell from her lips.

“I will find you again.” And she turned and disappeared into the trees, the tiger curling its lips silently at the man before following after her.

_**That was a bad idea, my Lady. You give the mortal hope where there is none.** _

“Shut up, Ainur. I do not know what I was thinking.” She knew there could never be anything with the mortal, she was about to marry, and apparently in the future give the elvenking a child, though she did not know why. He had a perfectly healthy and handsome son for an heir. And, she’d also neglected to tell the Barrel man this fact.

_**You were not thinking, that is just it.** _

She gave her companion another scowl at his “helpfulness”, which he seemed to ignore, and lifted his head to sniff the air. Fae lifted a brow before doing the same.

“What?”

_**Mithrandir approaches, along with the female.** _

Faeilân sighed, picking up her robes and then straddled Ainur’s back, who lowered himself to accommodate her. He lifted, shaking his great head before he took off in a sprint, eating up ground faster than her own feet and speed could have. He burst from the trees, skidding to a halt just before the horses the two rode.

“Ah! There you are, my Lady. We were beginning to worry.” Mithrandir spoke, bowing his head, a sparkle in his eye.

The female elf that had been by the elven king’ss side had a long sword brandished, sharp end pointing at the two. When she realized who it was she sheathed her sword and hopped off her horse going into a bow, “My apologies my lady, I had thought you a threat. Are you harmed?” She asked her Queen to be, trying to see any possible wounds with her eyes.

Fae smiled at the other female, a soft smile, and a real one in fact, and shook her head, gently patting Ainur on the neck, “No, I am fine, thank you. It occurs to me that we do not know your name. Will your share it?”

Iythrinel tilted her head forward, “I am Iythrinel daughter of Limdur, my lady.” Lifting her head she motioned towards Mithrandir, “We have come to escort you back to my kings realm.”

“ _Mae govannen_ , Iythrinel, daughter of Limdur. I thank you.” She lifted a brow as Ainur moved them a little closer, sniffing at the air around the redhead. Fae opened her mouth to scold him, but he pushed his great head against the other woman’s stomach, nuzzling her.

_**She appears to like me.**_ His voice was a deep rumble, a happy one, and Fae rolled her eyes. Iythrinel, taken with the large creature smiled softly and lifted a hand to pet him, but hesitated looking to his eyes, “May I pet you Ainur?” she asked. He nudged against her, as if saying yes, and Fae laughed.

“He seems to like you, very much so. That is rare.”

Iythrinel looked to Fae but this time there was no real warmth to her smile, “Is that so? I am honored.” Looking back down Iythrinel smoothed her hand against the silken coat, relishing in its feel. Quickly she backed away, “I’m afraid we must go my lady, it can be dangerous the later we stay out here.” and with that she turned to her mare once again straddling it.

Ainur chuckled in her mind, and Fae frowned, watching the female. She looked to Mithrandir, a look passing over his face, and for a moment he looked paler than usual. But he quickly recovered, smiling “reassuringly”, and turned to lead the way back to Thranduil’s palace.

 

**_She seems to like me very much. But not so much you, I’m afraid._** Ainur snickered, and Fae looked down at him as he padded silently behind them. As if she needed something else to worry about. She supposed she wasn’t here to make friends, but it would have been nice to have at least had one. She made a face, and Ainur pushed his head into her fingers, stumbling only a little as he did so as he tried to walk. She curled her fingers in his fur, smiling a little. Even when he was angry at her he tried to comfort.

The ride back to the palace was a silent one, filled with tension that really, Fae had no idea where it stemmed from.

 

****

 

Legolas, after seeing Iythrinel and Mithrandir off followed swiftly after his father who upon seeing his son next to him raised a brow “I had assumed you would go off Galavanting with Nel.”

Legolas’ stared forward, “I offered but she refused, insisting I stay with you father.”

Thranduil furrowed his brows observing his son, and then cast a look at the guards around him, “Honestly that girl, I can take care of myself. I am not a mere king who sits upon his throne.”

Legolas kept the sarcastic remark he had to himself. “She is merely doing her job father. One you appointed her.”

Thranduil stuck his nose up remembering his childhood with the red haired elf, “She appointed herself. I merely made her title official when I was given the crown.” Legolas smiled to himself, knowing well how the two thought of each other, and hearing rather humorous stories from Nel herself.

He then walked ahead but not without a final word to his father, “Too bad you have made her mad at you once again.”

Thranduil stared after him with a raised brow, but couldn’t really think of anything else to say. He wasn’t really sure what Legolas was talking about, but if it had anything to do with his “insult” towards the other female, that would be taken care of soon. It didn’t even register in the elvenking’s mind that he was already planning, trying to soften Nel to him again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something a little shiny

The others abandoned their horses at the gate, leaving them to be taken to the stables, but Fae rode Ainur all the way through.

“Will you not leave your mount to be taken with the others, my Lady?” one of the males asked, and she gave a curt smile over her shoulder.

“He is no mere mount, and have you seen the size of him? He may get hungry.” was her reply. Ainur looked at the guard over his shoulder and gave a “wolfish” grin. The elf paled and hurried off.

Iythrinel walked to a guard and whispered to her, then turning to Faeilân, “Tauriel here is one of my trusted captains of the guard, she will see you to your room to freshen up as I inform my King that you have finally reached his realm.” and with a bow Iythrinel left.

Faeilân had no time to thank the smaller woman, so she said nothing, smiling softly at Tauriel and nothing more. She did however, finally slide off the back of Ainur, keeping pace easily with the slightly taller elven woman.

“How long have you lived in this realm, Tauriel?” Fae asked her, turning to look at the elf with respect, instead of keeping her eyes forward as if she didn’t care about her answers.

“Oh, all my life, my Lady. I train under Lady Iythrinel.” She answered politely, looking first at the shorter woman’s face then back to the ground.

“Do you? I take she fights well, then. I must admit it surprises me that your King has any female guards at all.”

It looked like Tauriel tried to suppress a laugh, but smiled nonetheless, “I am sure you are not the first to have thought the same.”

Faeilân grinned, then looked forward, minding her steps as the first descended, then ascended elaborate winding staircases. She was a graceful being by nature, but she was sure to fall to her death here. Even Ainur and Gandalf struggled along behind them, Ainur keeping close without stepping on the train of her gowns.

“What else can you tell me of this realm, young Tauriel?”

Tauriel seemed surprised that the other woman was talking to her, but she thought for a moment before she answered, “The King is very protective, very fair in his rulings. Iythrinel keeps a close eye on him, she has since they were children.”

Fae found this amusing; an heir to the throne being watched over his whole life by a woman. it thrilled her if she were being honest, and thought that surely he had a soft side to him then. Tauriel told her of King Oropher’s passing, how Thranduil had been all but forced onto the throne, the death of his wife, and Fae caught the impression that Tauriel was trying to prepare her, explain why her king was like he was.

“Are you trying to soften me towards your king?” she asked, half amusement, half censure. Tauriel’s face turned red and she dipped her head. Gandalf made a coughing sound behind them that Faeilân ignored.

“No, my Lady, that was not my intent, I was only-”

“Answering my questions. I thank you for your honesty, Tauriel.”

“Of course. Here are your rooms.” the girl was probably relieved to be rid of them, and the effect would probably be worsened if they ever found out that Fae came from ancient beings.

 

****

 

Iythrinel sped past the guards as they bowed their heads at her and waltzed through the door to the throne room, pausing and taking a deep breath she walked at a normal pace this time to the bottom of the stairs, Thranduil looked down at her, Legolas’ by his side.

“I see you’ve made it back, what of Mithrandir and the woman?”

Iythrinel raised a brow, “You would do well to learn your wife to be’s name my king. Mithrandir is with her now in her rooms, escorted by Tauriel. I am sure the lady will be down once she has refreshed herself. Is there anything else I may do to be of use to you?” She asked blankly.

His eyes softened as he looked down at her, his usually ice blue eyes glancing over her face with warmth, “Leave me.” he said softly, and as the rest started to file out, he called back to the redhead, “Not you, Iythrinel. You stay.”

Nel held herself still, watching him as he stood and started his descent down the stairs. He stopped in front of her, his eyes still soft. Her heart beat quickened and she could only hope he could not hear, or at least thought nothing of it if he could. He lifted a palm, and pressed it to her face. Had her glamour not been up, he would have felt her scars. She was only slightly shocked that she could feel his warmth seep through those very same scars, something her own hands could not achieve. He leaned forward until they were eye level, his silvery hair falling around his face and shoulders.

“I want you to be the one to escort the woman around after dinner, I trust no other with my personal business.”

“What of Legolas? Surely he cou-”

“I want you.” Thranduil said, and let his hand drop, straightening his back. “Will you do this for me, Nel?” Iythrinel sighed from the loss of his warmth and closed her eyes. “Of course Thran, I shall escort her around the palace.”

He gave her a soft smile and a nod, before slowly, his face fell back into the straight lines of a glacier. “So it shall be, then.”

 

****

 

Fae took her time, taking an extra long time brushing her hair even as Mithrandir rushed her. She parted it into strands and braided it, the end result as thick as a mortal man’s arm as it fell over one shoulder. Thinking of mortals, she smiled to herself as her thoughts turned to Bard, but Ainur interrupted her, chuffing. She made a face at him, sticking her tongue out, and he stood in offense, turning his tail in her direction for the second time and laying back down. Gandalf chuckled, shaking his head, but didn’t ask what their disagreement had been about, to which Fae was thankful.

“Hurry now, he’ll be expecting you.”

“Let him wait. He only wants the crown.”

“Faeilân Nyeri, did your parents raise such a disrespectful child?” Mithrandir’s voice swelled with the power he held hidden within, a shadow growing, covering half the room, and then all of it as it grew. Ainur growled, low in his throat, and moved slowly towards Fae, as if to protect her.  
Fae’s fingers sank into her tiger’s furs, her eyes wide as she stared up at the wizard. A breath she didn’t know she was holding was released as he seemed to come back into himself, tilting his head at her, “You chose yourself for this. It is time to do your duty.”

Anger rose swiftly, how dare he bring up her family. But, he was right. She’d taken responsibility for this, she’d volunteered in place of her sister, it was true. She nodded curtly, then disappeared into the bathing chamber. When she returned, it was with a fresh gown of coral color, rippling to the floor, the bodice like a waterfall, the sleeves off the shoulder, reminiscent of a butterfly’s wings as they too, almost fell to the floor. She made a face at the two males, who looked at her as if in surprise.

“You clean up quite nicely.” the wizard said, his voice teasing. Ainur laughed, a booming, full bellied laugh in her head.

“Shut up, the both of you. Let us go give the king his treasure.”

She opened the door, and to her surprise, there stood two guards, turning towards her alertly, bowing. She suppressed an eye roll, and turned to Gandalf, “Really?”

“‘Tis a precautionary measure, my dear. Every queen has them.” He chuckled a bit to himself, holding his arm out for her and she took it with a sigh. He lead them up the stairs, Ainur behind them, and the guards at an even greater distance behind him, weary of the large animal.

Mithrandir prattled on about nothing in particular as they went, filling the cold, empty halls with his pleasantries. Fae listened, a serene smile on her face, and let slip a little giggle here and there, one bubbling up right before they entered the throne room. Her face fell as she looked up, and up, and up the staircase to see Thranduil perched on his throne, the cold guard at his side and his son off to the other, and she resisted the urge to hike up her dress and leave again. She’d much rather be...well...anywhere else. More specifically seated on a dirty wooden wine barrel having a conversation with a certain mortal.

“' _Quel_ , my Lord. I bring you a gift.” Fae spoke evenly, lifting her chin, and from the corner of her eye, she caught the proud look Mithrandir wore on his face, hiding his smile by looking down. Lightly, she clicked her tongue, and Ainur presented himself, stepping forward, chuffing as he came from behind her and to her front. Crouching down, she let her eyes leave the three figures up on their perch and travel to the leather bag fastened tightly to the tiger’s side. She released the clasp, giving him a smile and a soft thanks, and he moved off to her left, staring with cold eyes up at the king.

“So Mithrandir tells me. Show it to me.” his voice was smooth as silk and she wanted to slap the smirk that fell across his lips. Gritting her teeth, and cast a little glance at the tall male beside her, and he gave a tiny smile and nod. Grudgingly, she stuck her fingers into the bag, and pulled the glowing crown free. An audible, collective gasp echoed around the room.

“As promised, King of Greenwood.” her voice was flat, devoid of any emotion as she held it out for them.

An idea struck her, and with a secret smile, and her silent communication with Ainur, he chuckled, and turned towards her. Gently, she placed the crown into the tiger’s mouth, only to watch the horrified faces the elves wore. She would have laughed, and the reprimanding glare she got from Gandalf was more than worth it. Happily, Ainur padded forward and up the stairs half way, his tail haughtily in the air the whole time. His eyes never left Thranduil’s.

With a look from her king, Iythrinel stepped forward and descended the stairs to meet Ainur on the midway platform. Going to one knee, she accepted the crown and slid a hand over his fur. Standing she bowed to Fae.

“We thank you for your gift Faeilân Nyeri, and you as well Ainur for your gift.” Straightening, she made her way back up the stairs, wiping off the tiny bit of saliva from the precious crown. Ainur turned, making his way back to Fae’s side only after gently nuzzling into Nel’s fingers. Stopping before Thranduil who stood, she once again got to one knee, head bowed and presented the crown to him.

With wide eyes and his breath held, Thranduil looked upon that which he thought lost forever. Slowly he took the crown from Nel’s hands. A hand placed on his arm pulled him out of his reverie and he turned to Legolas who had a silk inlaid box ready. Gently, he placed the crown in and Legolas shut the box, he could marvel at the crown later, for now he had a feast to inform Faeilân of.

“Do you know the customs of elven marriage, Faeilân Nyeri?” he asked, his eyes looking over her with judgement. She didn’t, but the reasons he thought she did not were not at all the case. She assumed he thought she did not know because, one, she’d not been raised among conventional elves, which was true. Second, because she was still young, or so he thought. She smiled a little to herself, letting her head fall forward in a “bow”, was he trying to embarrass her?

“No, I cannot say I do, your Highness.”

A knowing smile crossed his lips, and he stood slowly, coming down the stairs. She lifted a brow, about to take a step back, had it not been for Mithrandir’s knowing hand pressed into the small of her back, keeping her in place. Thranduil came to stand in front of her, his eyes scrutinizing.

“There is a feast, in which we will exchange rings. Silver. I will then recite to you; _Guren bêd enni i gi melin a bestathangid aen. Man gureg bêd?_ (My heart tells me that I love you and we should wed. What does your heart say?) And then will present my ring to you. To which you will reply with; _Guren be 'ureg. Na veth min în, bestathangid!_ (My heart is like your heart. At the end of one year, we shall wed!), and present me with your ring.” He stopped his circling, looking at her, to make sure her slow mind could keep up. To be honest, she didn’t even bother to hold up pretenses. She looked utterly sick. For the first time, he thought that perhaps she did not want this, no more than anyone else seemed to. But he continued. A deal was a deal.

“Then together, we will say, _Ai onron adh onril! Ai muindyr a muinthil! Ai meldir a meldis! Bestathangid na veth min în!_ (Hail father and mother! Hail brothers and sisters! Hail male-friends and female-friends! We two will marry at the end of one year!).”

“My mother and father will no-”

“Mithrandir has informed me that they will risk to attend this feast and the marriage feast only. As customs demand. But, hopefully, in a year’s time, your family will have found elsewhere to take you. The feast and the rings are for show only.” his voice was like a whip, partnered with his words, and Fae found herself making a face at him without even realizing it. Gandalf cleared his throat again, and she looked at him sharply; he had no room to correct her when he had not even told her that her “parents” would be there for the feast. But she let it go, for now, and turned back to the elvenking.

“Will that be all, Highness?” she asked softly, though evenly and indifferent, dipping her head again.

“Hmm, for now. Iythrinel will escort you around the grounds, show you around. I have preparations to attend to.”

She didn’t know which was worse; the guard or Thranduil himself. The guard didn’t seem to like her, and Thranduil would probably insult her with every step and breath he took. She sighed and dipped her head, looking at Gandalf in an “We will talk later” fashion, and Ainur pressed himself against her side, letting her drape an arm over him.

“We will follow you out, Lady Iythrinel.” Iythrinel once again descended the stairs, nodding to her king in passing.

 

****

 

“That went better than expected.” Gandalf’s pleasant voice filled her ears, and she groaned out in her pillow as she collapsed on the bed.

“I don’t know what tour you were on, but it could have gone much smoother.” she griped, and Ainur nosed his two cents in, laying his head on the bed while his body sat on the floor.

 ** _I don’t know. It wasn’t that bad at all._** Fae glared at him, and he gave the mental equivalent of a shrug. **_What?_**

“There is something wrong with both of you. She clearly hates me, though I do not know why,” And at this, she lifted her head and glared at Gandalf. “Do you?”

His eyes widened, and he looked at her, clearly ruffled, being put in an awkward position. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, “Well I...you see…” he started, then waved his hand, chuckling awkwardly, dismissively. Faeilân stared at him pointedly, brow lifted; she would not let this go.

With a sigh, he gave in, “I may or may not have neglected to tell you…” he looked at her, face tight, before he let his shoulder droop, “Lady Iythrinel has been in love with Thranduil since she was a child.” A look of sympathy washed over the old, withered face.

Faeilân sat up, gasping at the horror she felt. She was stealing the male this woman loved right from under her. No wonder the woman was so cold. No doubt she’d had to watch the first marriage take place as well. And then another thought to her, and Gandalf stiffened as her eyes fell on his again, turning a cold, hard brown.

“You knew this, so the Valar had to have known.” She started, and the slight widening of his eyes gave truth to her musings. “I am right! The Valar knew and still they gave me to him. That poor woman! Her love stolen from her not once, but twice. You would have me be the ruin of their love?” she was outraged, by now she’d thrown herself from the bed, standing in the old man’s face, as he was seated. Ainur watched warily from the corner of the room, having moved when she’d gotten up.

This time, instead of his power swelling as his anger took root, Olórin took a breath and let it out, his glamor falling as his hand pressed to her face, cupping it gently, and he gave her a sweet, sad smile, “I do only what my Master tells me. I never wanted this for you. None of us did.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dealing~

CHAPTER SEVEN

It had taken her a long time to let go of her anger, but alas, she did, turning her attention to more important things. Like, how the fuck her parents were going to be at her betrothal feast. Gandalf explained that, as the elves knew it, her parents had started traveling when they had, but from another area, and would arrive just in time. Her actual parents would be there, in the guise of a light and dark elf, risking all just to be there for their daughter’s feast, and then later for her wedding. Let the cursed mixed breed have some form of honor.

She didn’t know how, after seeing her parents, she would let them go. And she was glad to hear that her parents would only be coming themselves, bringing none of her siblings. She’d definitely break if she saw them. Faeilân fell into bed with a heavy heart, drifting off to the deep, echoing hum of her guardian Olórin, accompanied by the even deeper one of Ainur.

 

****

 

Iythrinel grumbled to herself as she made way to Thranduil’s room, a silver ring clutched in her hand. “Must I do everything for him? Maybe it is I who should marry the lady myself as well.” Ignoring the guards stationed by his room she knocked on the doors, a moment later he opened the door, already dressed in his sleeping robes.

He raised a brow as she made her way past him and he shut the door. “Your ring.” she said turning to him and holding out the object. He accepted it and placed it on a table. He turned around again only to see her rifling through his clothes,

“Just what are you doing?” He asked walking up behind her, she looked over her shoulder, actually tip toeing as she grabbed a cloak off of a higher shelf.

“I’m going to lay out your clothes for tomorrow's feast.” She explained simply. “I am fully capable of doing that myself Nel.”

She turned to him, the rest of the clothes in her arms and a small smirk on her face, “Legolas’ is capable as well yet he allowed me to do this with no trouble.” Passing him he sighed and watched her lay down the clothes.

“And your own clothes?”

She stiffened. “My leathers will do.” She replied and Thranduil smirked this time.

“I’m afraid not, you must dress for the occasion, shall I travel to your room to help you lay out your own clothes?”

She turned to him with a scowl, “I do not trust you to pick anything suitable to me.” as soon as she said that her eyes drifted around the room, checking for anything dangerous he was sure. Her eyes soon landed on the box that contained the crown and her eyes softened, “It has finally returned to its home.” she whispered, memories of a kind queen in her mind. The same memories haunted him, too.

Turning she pushed Thranduil towards his bed, “Now get rest Thran, you have a big day tomorrow.” Thranduil rolled his eyes but bid her a good night. “Remember you have to dress for the occasion.” he called out as she made her swift exit.

Finally after a long day she had made it to her own room. The very first thing Iythrinel did was strip herself and start a bath. Unwinding her hair from its braids she slid into the bath and was actually able to relax. Her eyes drifted to her reflection in the water and watched her glamour melt away revealing her scars, a useless eye and ruined skin.

Thranduil waited until Iythrinel was gone before he sank down onto his bed, eyes dead and cold. This was not an event he was looking forward to. And neither, did it appear, was the girl. Memories he’d rather keep buried rose to the surface as he thought back to his first betrothal. He wondered for a moment why it was he never seemed to choose his own destiny. But the first time had been a blessing from the Valar themselves, or a cruel joke, based on how it had ended. His heart clenched, so hard he lifted a hand to his chest. For the first time in a long time, he thought about someone else other than his people, his friend and his son, himself. That poor girl on the other side of the palace had no idea. She didn’t know him, and he didn’t know her. She seemed to have such fire, and it was wasted in a place like this. She hadn’t asked to be born of two conflicting races, and here she was.

His eyes flickered back to the crown’s box that rested across the room and the ghost of a smile lifted the corners of his lips. What would his mother tell him to do? After all, this situation was only temporary.

_“We do not choose love, love chooses us. Be humble, make it as easy as possible for everyone involved.”_

His mother’s voice echoed in his head, and he closed his eyes as if trying to savor it, latch on and cling to it. it had been a long time since he’d even bothered to think outside of the little box he’d created for himself. His shelter. And now, the crown had resurfaced and he was feeling all manner of foreign things. Even if it was a permanent thing, as Mithrandir had made it seem like it was possible, at least it was possible the woman was fertile, and could produce more offspring. He did enjoy children….

He grinned to himself as he thought of Legolas as a child. Happier times. The boy’s laughter echoing through his halls. Now his son was grown, and strong, and would one day take the throne. And then Thranduil, tired and weary of this world, could sail, and finally be at peace. Even that thought lifted his spirits; this marriage would at least be amusing for him until the time came for him to depart to the Undying Lands. Her reactions were quite surprising.

 

****

 

Fae awoke to fresh Lembas bread, and strongly brewed tea, which she enjoyed very much. It helped to wake her up, and she didn’t remember even eating the day before. Ainur was still lounging lazily, only opening an eye to see who entered, then closing it again once satisfied. He was getting hungry, though; the glimpses of dreams Fae caught from him were of him hunting in the forests of her grandfather. So he was hungry and homesick, the poor dear.

She took her time bathing, washing her hair three times instead of once, drying until her skin all but reflected off the surface, and then brushed her hair until it lay almost straight against her back and shone like stars. Yes, she was procrastinating. She had no desire to be in the company of people who could care less for her.

“My Lady, King Thranduil would like you to accompany him for noon bread.” a voice sounded through the door, and Fae suppressed a high pitched, hysterical laugh. He wanted her to what? She cleared her throat, Ainur looking at her curiously, and she shook her head.

“Tell your King I will be up in….in a moment?” she tried, and Ainur looked at her in disappointment. She shrugged, it was the best she could do. She wasn’t ready for any of this. And so she dressed, finally, again taking her time, relishing in the thought that they were waiting for her arrival before they began eating. She giggled, and Ainur shook his head at the way her directions were going. And as if on cue, since Ainur was swiftly losing control of her wayward thoughts, Mithrandir knocked twice before entering. It was a good thing she was already dressed.

“Ah, beautiful as ever.” she lifted a brow at his flattery.

“What have you done, old man?”

He looked at her as if wounded for her assumption, “Nothing! I’ve just come from ‘home.’” He lifted his eyebrows to emphasize that he meant Aman.

“And?” she was hesitant, but she asked anyway.

“Everything is as it should be.” He bowed as he exited, trying for mysterious she gathered but it didn’t quite work well for him that time.

So she followed after him, Ainur finally getting up with a yawn and a stretch, following them down into the depths, then up onto the surface where almost blinding light filtered through the trees. Twisted trunks rose from the ground like great serpents, wrapping around each other until they created a shading dome. And there, just under the shelter, spread out on a table of wood, was a glorious array of food for everyone to choose from, and Fae was instantly suspicious. Thranduil was already seated, looking impatient.

“And there you are. I was debating sending another guard if Mithrandir did not succeed. I trust you slept well?” He asked, standing and sweeping his silvery cloak behind him as he walked, offering his hand to her so she could be seated. And her suspicion rose.

But she took his hand, meeting his eyes for a brief moment as she sat down, but looked away and lay her hand in her lap, “Yes, thank you, my Lord.” How awkward. First the tour with the guard and now this. The only condolence she had was….She watched sadly as Ainur’s tail disappeared behind a corner, along with the last remnants of a grey cloak. And so, they had abandoned her. She looked back across the table, and to her shock, Thranduil was staring expectantly. She stared back dumbly, then managed to open her mouth, “And you?”

Okay, mouth, the next time you want to say something, please let it be intelligent. She gave a sigh, but the king seemed to be amused.

“I did.” was all he said. She nodded, then looked around awkwardly, twiddling her thumbs, “Aren’t you hungry? I remembered that you were not fed upon your arrival yesterday.”

“Did you? How sweet of you to notice.” And it was too late to take it back. Her sarcastic response...no wonder Gandalf was always elbowing her in the ribs. She looked up at his face, and he’d lifted one of his impressive eyebrows. She wished she could call off their marriage right then and there, before they’d even exchanged the betrothal rings, but she had a mission, and she lifted her chin. Now he lifted both brows, his chin resting on his hands as they propped under it. “Forgive me. I’m going to try from this point on to make this as easy for everyone involved as possible.” she dipped her head.

A look passed over his face, one of shock, then sadness, then apparent determination and acceptance, “Then I will endeavour to do the same.” And he reached across the table for something. She wasn’t sure what it was, she was too busy staring at him in complete disbelief.

“Even if we have to marry, really?” She blurted without thinking. Yes, this was exactly why Mithrandir made it a point to elbow her any time she opened her mouth. She cringed visibly as he froze, staring at her.

After a long silence, he finally spoke, “If it comes to pass, then we will do what must be done. But let us both hope for a different outcome, hm?” She could have cried right then; there was no other outcome.

Sighing, she nodded and went about plucking random things from the table and placing them on her large plate before her, then mechanically fed herself, staring dully at a little spec on the table. When she looked up, he was staring again, slowly chewing. She rolled her eyes.

“What?”

“You have absolutely no manners, do you?” he asked. It was such a small question, asked simply. She gaped.

“You are the one who has been staring, Highness!” she quipped, eying him. He smirked, that smirk that made her want to punch him.

“Well after tonight, I will have to look at your for quite some time, won’t I? May as well get used to it now.” And went right back to eating. She didn’t even know what else to say.

 

****

 

Hacking and slicing, once again the wooden spar dummy fell to the ground and Legolas could only stare. Huffing to herself, Iythrinel sheathed her sword and finally noticed the other warrior elves staring at her and she scowled, “What is it? Should you not be practicing instead of watching me? Well get to it!” They jumped and turned, throwing themselves into practice.

She turned to Legolas who looked at her with a raised brow and she frowned squinting at him, “You look like your father when you do that.” She said.

He smirked and placed a hand easily on top of her head. “Well I am his son, and you've scared near everyone here.”

She ducked from his hand. “Do not do that, You may be taller than me-”

He interrupted, “Not something hard to achieve I assure you.”

A growl from her throat, “I can still very easily beat you, child.” She stomped off after, and he followed as he was prone to do when it came to his father's guard. Once they reached the deserted halls of the kingdom she slowed and he walked beside her.

“The marriage troubles you.”

She sucked in a breath and slowly released it, “It does, but there is nothing to be done about it.” She turned sad eyes to him, “I hate that I am so envious, it’s an ugly color on me, Legolas.” And with that she softly bowed her head and entered into her room, leaving him by himself in the halls.


	8. Chapter 8

All day, people had been arriving, from all over, and Faeilân stood valiantly by the King’s side as he looked over last minute preparations, greeted and introduced her to their guests, and other business. She even held his hand, his palm facing upwards, and hers downward and flat upon his. They hadn’t perfected it yet, but they had practiced their smiles, and standing, and though Thranduil had grown more and more impatient, she had laughed at herself, apologizing repeatedly, but never stopping her laughing. Now, whenever she was struggling to smile, as she faced the people who were to witness her publicly sealed fate, all she had to do was think of Thranduil’s desperate face or Bard’s easy laughs.

She felt Thranduil stiffen next to her, and she instinctively stepped closer to him, looking up into his eyes, and he looked back down into her own, gesturing with a subtle nod of his head. She turned, plastering a smile back onto her face as she looked upon a tall blonde couple, walking gracefully towards them, their hand holding much more natural.

“And so this is your bride to be, Thranduil.” It was a statement, not a question, from the woman. Thranduil stiffly bowed to her and her husband, then gestured towards them with a sweep of his free hand.

“Faeilân Nyeri, I give you the Lady Galadriel, and her husband Celeborn.” The woman, Galadriel, glanced at Faeilân, and her eyes widened slightly, making Fae lift a brow. She felt her, prodding at her mind, and Fae tilted her head.

“I would enjoy your company when you have a free moment, Faeilân. If that will be alright with you.” She smiled, though there was suspicion there, lurking in her eyes.

“Of course, my Lady. It would be my pleasure.” She smiled, though this time, it was forced, and she felt Thranduil’s fingers flex under hers. She didn’t chance looking away from the couple to look at him and catch the look of alarm that crossed his face.

“The Lady Galadriel insisted we make haste here, as soon as she awoke from a dream. Imagine, the whole of both our guards, traveling in the middle of the night.” Celeborn said, chuckling, looking with a slight amount of sympathy towards Fae. She gave him a little smile in return.

“Both?” Thranduil asked, and for a moment it sounded as if he’d hit puberty all over again.

“You did not think I would miss an opportunity like this, did you, old friend?” A dark haired elf stepped from behind the guard, a little private, secret smile across his features and he parted his companions and came forward. This time, she did curl her fingers in Thranduil’s, as he swayed gently. And she did look up at him, a question in her eyes. He looked down at her, and gave a little secret roll of his eyes before addressing the male.

“Elrond! Welcome, old friend. Of course, all of you and your people are welcome. We are glad you could make it. We are honored to have your presence at such a...happy...occasion.”

Elrond came forward, a grin splitting his face, and he took Faeilân’s hand into his own, making Thranduil lift a brow.

“Thranduil, how is it you have come to be so lucky, not only once, but twice! She looks as if the Valar hand crafted her and sent her down to you themselves.”

This time, Fae could not hold back the high pitched, borderline hysterical laughter that poured from her lips, and she took both of her hands from them, clapping them over her mouth as she stared with wide grey eyes at Elrond. He smiled, and Thranduil fumed. None of them had any idea how close he had come to the truth, except for maybe Galadriel, but she hoped the woman only thought she knew things. Thranduil shook her from her thoughts as he took one of her hands back, this time lacing their fingers, and she dipped her head to hide her grimace.

“Your words are too kind, my Lord Elrond.” she replied.

“Indeed. Please, let my guard show you to your chambers. We are only awaiting the arrival of a few more guests before the feast begins. Iythrinel!”

Said guard heard her name called by her king and made her way to the gathered group of lords and ladies. Once she reached she bowed. “My king, Lady Galadriel, Lord Celeborn, Lord Elrond, welcome.” She turned to Thranduil “What is it you would have of me?” she asked, slightly fidgeting with her sage dress and tucking her loose curls behind her ear. A woven crown of small blooms and leaves settled in her hair.

“Escort our guests to their chambers.” He said, and she bowed turning to them.

“By your leave.” Lady Galadriel nodded with a smile and walked to the guard, the lords followed and finally the two were alone for a bit again.

“This is terrible.” Fae grumbled under her breath and through clenched teeth as she nodded towards the passing guards.

“You are only beginning to know what I go through on a daily basis. I did not expect them here, however. That is as big a surprise to me as it is to poor Iythrinel, who will have to scramble and find room for them.”

She scowled at him, and he looked down at her with an innocent expression.

“She goes out of her way to care for you. You should not take that for granted.” she said, and she almost missed his chuckle, as she turned her head and her heart caught in her throat. Thranduil, confused, followed her gaze, and then his eyes softened, and he looked back down at her.

“Shall we walk to meet them?” he asked near her ear.

There, clearing the threshold of the front gate, were her parents. Her father’s skin was such a dark brown it was almost black, and her mother was fair and beautiful with glowing blond hair. They held hands much like Galadriel and Celeborn, faces serene and calm, until they saw her. She saw their hands visibly tighten, no doubt her father keeping her mother from running to her. Had Thranduil’s arm not happened to snake around her waist, she was sure she would have fallen. It hadn’t even been very long, as a matter of fact, it had only been three days, if even, but they reminded her of what she was losing.

They were standing toe to toe now, staring into unfamiliar eyes. Her parents were disguised, but they were her parents. Their arms were around her, and Thranduil released her to them with a slight smile. Gandalf, who had been walking behind them, came around them and stood off to the side with a large grin.

“Oh, little one, we’ve missed you so much.” her mother cried into her hair. Fae hadn’t realized it yet, but she was crying too. Her father’s palm took up the entire back of her head it was so large, and he held both of the women to his chest, peppering kisses on their foreheads.

Thranduil made a soft sound after a while, and Fae was shocked that his patience had lasted so long. She pulled back, and three pairs of eyes settled on him, and he suddenly felt like he wanted to change his mind.

“You are Thranduil?” her father asked, and she wanted the earth to swallow her again. Thranduil lifted his brow, and opened his hand for Faeilân, and upon reflex, as she’d been doing all day, she took it, and her parents stared at her in shock. Thranduil smirked.

“I am.” his voice was like silk, and he looked down into a disapproving Faeilân’s eyes.

“I am Maeglad, and this is my wife, Anameleth. We are thankful to your for housing our daughter.”

“The honor is mine. Tell me, is there news of your situation?” Thranduil asked, leaning towards her father with an expression he hoped was close to concern.

Her father lifted his brow, and tightened his fingers around her mother’s. Which meant her mother wanted to slap Thranduil. Gandalf had rolled his eyes. She wished Ainur was here, he’d have something to say about this. But, Thranduil had insisted that he stay in the room lest he frighten the guests. Her father finally spoke, cautiously, clearing his throat.

“That is a matter of which we will have to speak of at more length with more privacy. But as of now it is looking,” his eyes met Thranduil’s, and both Fae and Thran froze to the spot. “Indefinite.”

 

****

 

Fae chewed boredly at a piece of lettuce. Her mother leaned over in her ear, whispering things that would make her laugh every now and again. The families sat at opposite ends, with the betrothed at the heads, mother to the left, father to the right. In Thranduil’s case, it was Iythrinel to his left, Legolas to his right. She was off in her own little world, imagining herself down by the river, laughing with a mortal she shouldn’t be so infatuated with. Filling the seats between the two families were Gandalf, Elrond, Celeborn, and Galadriel. Rows upon rows of other guests and guards filled the other tables, the halls filled with merry making and cheer, but Fae jumped when Thranduil stood, lifting a glass of his fine Dorwinion wine. And she could say it was fine, even she, a Valar’s daughter, was a little “tipsy.” She’d even found herself catching, and then reading into, the little looks and touches Thranduil and Iythrinel gave each other. It was so obvious now. How had she not even noticed before?

Earlier, after their lunch, Thranduil and Fae, along with practicing their stances and smiles, had also practiced their lines. So she’d known it was coming, as he’d told her what the signal would be, but she’d still been in a little fantasy. But this was really happening. This was really now.

Her parents watched with sad expressions as she too stood, and she slapped on another fake smile as she lifted her glass with his.

“I would like to make a toast, to new family, new friends. Old friends, and to new futures.” And then he took a sip, and she followed suit, and then the rest of them like mindless drones. She was getting sick to her stomach. She wanted to look at Nel with an apologetic expression, but she didn’t have the balls to meet her gaze.

Thranduil made his way around the table, slowly, with the sure grace of a king, and Fae waited at the head of her side, patiently, with all the etiquette of a queen. She took his hand as he passed, and together, the two of them descended the small stair to a platform where they faced the expectant crowd. Gandalf had slipped her a silver ring upon his return earlier that day, and she clutched it in a fist in her left hand. Silence filled the room, and slowly, Thranduil turned to her.

“ _Guren bêd enni i gi melin a bestathangid aen. Man gureg bêd?_ (My heart tells me that I love you and we should wed. What does your heart say?)” His voice, again, was like mithril, encased in silk, which was then encased in velvet, and she gave a delicate shudder, though what it was from she did not know. She held out her right index finger, and he slid the silver ring onto it. It fit perfectly.

“ _Guren be 'ureg…. Na veth min în, bestathangid._ (My heart is like your heart. At the end of one year, we shall wed.)” She replied, hesitant, and she cleared her throat, her voice stronger as she went on. She presented him the ring, sliding it onto his finger, and wanted to snort, as it appeared a little snug. Gandalf looked pleased with himself.

They turned then, to face the crowd, again expectant, the excitement building for the second time, and again they spoke, “ _Ai onron adh onril! Ai muindyr a muinthil! Ai meldir a meldis! Bestathangid na veth min în!_ (Hail father and mother! Hail brothers and sisters! Hail male-friends and female-friends! We two will marry at the end of one year!)”

Cheers rang out, and had Faeilân been any lighter in skin tone, she would have been pale as death. This was real, and this was now. Thranduil leaned down and kissed her cheek, his eyes saying the same as hers.

 

****

Iythrinel watched with a cold smile and dead eyes. Her hands gripped tightly onto her skirts. She breathed in deeply ‘This is what your king has chosen Iythrinel, you have no right to feel slighted or angry, he is not yours and he never will be.’ Those words she repeated to herself in her mind helped her to build a fortress around her heart once again. She was a guard and a friend, never a lover or a wife.

“They make a beautiful couple.” She looked to her left and found Galadriel smiling at her and she made herself unclench her hands and force a less cold smile onto her lips.

“They do,” and it was true, Thranduil stood tall and graceful with Lady Faeilân just as graceful next to him. “And as his guard I will do my best to now protect her as well, for she is to be my Queen.” She dipped her head to Lady Galadriel.

Lord Celeborn looked around his wife at Thranduil’s guard, “What of yourself Iythrinel? You are plenty old enough to have your own child by now. Does an elf not hold your own heart?”

Legolas held his comments to himself as he watched Nel be questioned by Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. Nearly laughing when she was questioned about her own love life, one sadly one sided and lacking. A twitch from a guard behind the pair brought his eyes up and he came upon the curious sight of the Lothlorien Marchwarden. His blue eyes would linger on Nel, and a small smile would lift his lips. He knew this warden as Haldir.

“I am afraid my work as the king's guard interferes with such things my Lord. I have not the time to find myself in love.” Iythrinel answered. Haldir watched her from the corner of his gaze. She was beginning to feel uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

 

****

 

Gandalf sat, watching Thranduil and Faeilân as they danced in the centre of the room. It was a merry gathering, but one filled with much sorrow. Her parents, though they clapped and danced themselves, even Legolas standing and forcing Iythrinel to dance with him. But still, the heavy hearts weighed down on him.

**_What is it you know, Mithrandir?_** Galadriel’s voice filled his mind, and he looked at her pointedly from across the table.

**_I know that Elrond has taken quite the liking to our Lady Faeilân._** He smiled at her, and she tilted her head, chastising him.

**_Now, Mithrandir, who is she? She is not who she claims to be._ **

Sweat started to bead on his brow, and he looked away, wiping his forehead with a pocket handkerchief, before he sighed and answered her.

**_It is the will of the Valar. If you value your life and the lives of your kin, you will leave it be._ **

She seemed surprised, so much so that she sat back in her seat as if she had been shocked. When Celeborn turned to first look at her, then to Gandalf, she asked her husband to dance. He accepted, but his eyes held questions.

The last thing they needed was for an outside force to know. Already things were changing. The meeting of the mortal Bard was not meant to happen, it just had. And things had already changed since their meeting, so there was nothing they could do now. From this point on they were, virtually…..completely blind. The Valar had no idea, and wouldn’t allow him to inform Faeilân. Even now he watched with sadness as Thranduil learned of his and Fae’s permanent living status, their faces grave as they spoke with her parents So, as always, Olórin did what he was told. He would watch over her, and do everything else he was told, including taking a small trip, to a small inn, in a few weeks time.


	9. Chapter 9

Her parents had been sad to leave her, promising to “write” her, and left her gifts. They left before anyone else did, and with more tears. In the days that followed, Faeilân did go on that private walk with Galadriel, and she was questioned about her entire life. Which, she answered according to what the Valar had commanded. Galadriel had left less than satisfied. The last to leave was Elrond, who she’d wished had left first. His obvious affections were so embarrassing, but she wasn’t sure who it was more so for, herself, her betrothed, or Elrond himself. Probably equally for all parties. When he left, taking the last of the guests with him, it seemed that everyone had given a collective sigh of relief. Ainur had teased her endlessly about it.

Also, in the days that followed the betrothal feast, it seemed that Iythrinel had grown even more cold towards Fae, only holding up what was needed to be professional and courteous. It hadn’t gotten worse, nor better by the end of the third week. Of course now she knew the reason why, and even expected it, but it still stung, even if she didn't blame her for it. It was made even worse by Mithrandir’s departure, saying he had “business” to take care of. Now it was only herself and Ainur. Faeilân had asked for this no more than Thranduil had. So it was on this second day of the third week, Fae brought up something over breakfast.

“Iythrinel. I’d like to go to the gardens in a little while, if you would be so kind as to escort me?” she asked, trying for a cross between an innocent hopeful sounding question for Nel and a command, as not to raise Thranduil’s suspicions. Ainur bumped the table under her feet, and she looked down at him wildly.Thranduil didn’t so much as look up from his food.

Iythrinel dipped her head, “Of course, if that is what the Lady wishes of me.” Iythrinel then turned to Thranduil, “The master of Laketown has sent another shipment of his wine, shall we soon send the empty barrels back?”

Thranduil leaned back and laced his fingers, “Yes, though that mortal disgusts me he has rather good taste in wine.”

She then turned to Legolas, “Later go out with my captain Tauriel and her group to help deal with those nasty spiders.”

Legolas nodded as he drank the rest of his tea and stood. “I shall go now.” He dipped his head at his father and briefly at Faeilân.

“Be careful, Legolas.” Iythrinel said with a small smile as he left.

Fae took this time to chime in, leaning forward and looking between Thranduil and Iythrinel, holding a finger in the air, “Ahem...spiders? No one told me anything about spiders.”

The two looked at her with blank faces. She gave a nervous smile, cleared her throat, then tried again, “You see, me and spiders, we don’t….Ah, I’m assuming you mean big spiders,” She gestured with her hands, “I don’t even enjoy little ones.” She looked between them again, hoping for a cruel joke. “You’re not kidding, are you?” Her voice was faint and her face was blank, and she worked overtime not to hyperventilate. “If I’d known this I’d have taken my chances with my people trying to kill me off.”

Nel and Thran shared a glance, one followed by a smirk from Thranduil, causing Iythrinel to squint at him, “I must admit, I myself do not like being in the presence of spiders, though mostly because I am sorry to say these spiders are bigger than larger stags.” A slightly sympathetic look flickered in Iythrinel’s eyes, but they once again hardened, “But you need not worry about them, Our squadrons are sent out to kill any that come near.”

Fae nodded and sat back in her seat, suddenly fanning herself. Spiders. Great. And she had a feeling that now Thranduil would use that weakness against her, were his smirk anything to go by. She supposed she’d have to kil- slap him. Of course, she meant slap. “I believe I am ready for that walk now, if you’d like?”

Iythrinel looked to Thran who nodded his head, “Go on, I have my own work to attend to.” and with that Iythrinel stood and walked to Faeilân, “By your leave, my Lady.”

Faeilân stood slowly, bowing her head to Thranduil before smiling at Iythrinel, though she didn’t expect much of one back. Ainur struggled his way out from under the table, earning him a glare from Thranduil, but managed to work his way out and fall into step beside the two females.

The start of the walk was silent, as Fae had no idea where to begin. She must admit, her motives for wanting Iythrinel to escort her were not pure. She wanted to know why she blamed her for something she had no control over. The night before had been a near disaster, and her King was so angry at her by now he probably spit every time her name was spoken. She’d given Manwë and Irno hell for pairing her with an elf who was already loved and even returned said love, even if he did not know so himself. She was glad she shared her room with no one other than Ainur, otherwise they would have seen her, screaming into a mirror like a...well...crazy person. Since when did the Valar disrupt destiny? She was sure the elves would have been fine. Iythrinel looked like a sturdy, childbearing elf. She frowned at her wording.

“Iythrinel...I have noticed as of late that you are not very fond of me…” she started, a little smile crossing her features. “I want you to know that I know you love Thranduil. And I am glad he has someone like you in his life. It was never my intention to “steal” him away. Nor do I want to. Neither he nor I wanted this. This was not the fate in our cards. But we must play with the hand we were dealt, no?” She hesitated, then met the smaller woman’s eyes, “Tell me...Why have you not tried being with him?” She stopped and turned, facing the guard completely now, and not just from the side, awaiting her answer. Ainur sat down on his haunches by her side and looked up between the two of them as if he expected sparks to fly. Fae resisted the urge to punt him back to Aman.

Nel’s eyes were sad, “I am, sorry that I have treated the Lady so. I know my love for the king is not the most secretive. I allowed the feeling in my heart to overrule the logic in my mind. However, He is not, nor will he ever, be mine to have, I am a silvan elf, his guard, and friend, but only that. Though I may love him, he does not return those feelings. I know you did not make this choice for yourself, you are just as much a victim as I see my King in this,” At this the guard went to a knee in a bow, “Please accept my apologies for my selfishness.”

“You have all the right in all of Arda to be angry, Iythrinel. A strange woman has come into your home and taken your king as her own. I understand, and it is I who should apologize to you.” Fae tilted her head, lifting her hands to lightly place them on the other woman’s shoulders, so if she wished to move, she could, “I do not want an enemy of you. I had hoped we could be friends. I had my family bring something for you. If you would accept it?” It was a hesitant offer, she thought that maybe she was being too pushy, but regardless, she did want this gift for Iythrinel.

Standing Iythrinel smiled, “I would enjoy being friends, it does amuse me to see how you react to Thrans more childish tendencies. I just ask that you not break his heart if ever you eventually hold it. As for a gift, I can not accept something so grand from you my Lady.”

Relief almost had Fae sinking down to her knees right next to the guard, and she gave her a wide smile, reaching forward to take her hands in her own, giving a conspiratorial wink, “I believe you hold more of his heart than either of you realize, but on my life, if ever it should happen, I will hold his heart with care.” Iythrinel could only squint at her in confusion.

 _ **Ainur, please get her for me.**_ Fae asked him softly, looking down at him with a little grin.

Ainur bounded off suddenly, all but throwing himself into the trees. There was much rustling, and Fae frowned after him. Soon after, though, he stepped forward again, looking between Fae and Nel with a strangely mischievous look in his eye, for being a cat. Another rustle behind him made Fae lift her eyes, and she smiled as the second large cat stepped from the foliage.

She was grand, and just as beautiful as Faeilân had hoped. She turned back to Iythrinel, gauging her reaction.

“Her name is Mistamor. May she serve you well. I hope you will accept her.”

Iythrinel was breathless, this creature, no Mistamor was beautiful. “I know I just said I could not accept a gift but, Mistamor is beautiful!” Iythrinel walked to the large black feline with eyes that near matched her own. “Hello Mistamor, I am Iythrinel.” and she held out a hand waiting for a reaction from the feline. The panther softly placed its head into her hand, purring. Iythrinel turned to Faeilân with a large grin and bright eyes, “I thank you for this companion you have given me Faeilân. It would seem that Thran has no choice but to get used to large felines now.”

Faeilân wore a smile as she watched them, curling her fingers excitedly in Ainur’s fur.

 _ **My lady, may I speak to her?**_ The voice of the panther seemed to struggle to enter Fae’s mind, as they were not bonded. Fae’s eyes grew sad.

 ** _No, darling. She can never know._** It was sad, that she had to be here in their life, and was able to literally give any of them anything they wanted just about, yet could not tell them, or give too much in case questions arose. Life had become even more unfair than usual.

“You have no idea the joy it brings me to see that you enjoy her, Iythrinel. I trust you with her completely.” At the comment about Thranduil having to get used to large cats, Fae threw her head back and laughed, and even to her own ears it sounded a bit evil. When she looked at Nel again, her eyes glinted, “This is going to be fun. shall we go show him now?”

Nel smirked, “Oh yes, we shall, but please, call me Nel.”

“So long as you call me Fae, you shall be Nel to me.” The grin Fae wore was absolutely diabolical. She looked down at Ainur and smiled, “Come along, love, let us go show the king Nel’s new friend.”

 

****

 

The look on Thranduil’s face alone was absolutely worth everything Fae had gone through to date. He was staring the two cats down with horror written across his face. “Another one? Did I not say the one would be quite enough?”

“Well, I never heard you say such, your Highness. I must have been out on my walk and the others, well, it must have slipped their minds to tell me. Who could have known I had planned to give Mistamor to Nel?” she gave him the sweetest, most innocent smile she’d ever given anyone.

And she could probably say, the face he wore now was even better than the first one. He looked between the two women, and grimaced when Mistamor slithered up to him and sniffed at him. He looked at Nel again, shock crossing his face as he noticed her wide smile and bright eyes. She was deliriously happy. He gave a sigh, and sat back in his seat, giving a side glance to both the cats, who were now roaming around his chair, and crawling under the table. Thranduil looked down between his feet to see the large face of Ainur, and lifted a brow as the feline peeled his lips back in a silent snarl before slipping back out of sight. Thranduil rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“What a joyous occasion.” he said dryly, looking at Fae. She smiled at him again.

Nel’s happy voice chimed in, “Oh but isn’t it, Thran? Mistamor is beautiful and I am sure she will be a fine companion, and warrior. I must thank you again Fae!” She shot him a close eyed smile as she once again ran her hands through Mistamor’s fur as the panther passed her by again.

Legolas, with a raised brow, finally spoke up to his father. ”It has been ages since I’ve seen Nel so happy, father. It is good that the two now seem to be friends, if the names are anything to go by.” Excitedly, Nel waved Legolas over to meet Mistamor, and he did so after giving his father a smirk.

“Did you really have to?” Thranduil’s voice was soft as Fae seated herself next to him. Another smile turned up the corners of her lips as she watched Nel and Legolas.

“Of course I did. Look at her. Aren’t you glad to see her smiling again? She has been down for weeks.” She stopped, and turned her head to look at him. He was looking at her curiously, and turned his gaze to Nel with the same expression. Fae gave an exasperated sigh, “Do you notice anything?” He looked at her sharply, but she stared right back into his gaze with a raised brow. Ainur bumped the table as he tried to get out from under it again and join Nel and the others. Thranduil jumped, then closed his eyes as if praying for patience, giving a sigh.

“And what was it she was down about?”

“Perhaps you should ask her. After all, you didn’t notice, so the least you could do is ask her yourself.” A moment of silence passed between then, and a sly smile took over her lips, “How long have you known Nel?”

“Our entire lives almost.” A little smile grew there on his face as old memories danced behind his eyes. Fae watched in utter fascination; he was completely in love with Iythrinel and apparently had no idea.

“Idiot.” Fae slumped forward, letting her cheek hit the wooden table in front of her. Thranduil snapped out of his reverie and spared her a glance.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, your highness.”

 

****

 

Bard huffed as he rolled another barrel onto the boat with a heavy heart. Weeks. It had been weeks since the creature known as Faeilân, with her wild hair and wild eyes and her wild giant cat, had graced his presence. He was sure she didn’t remember him, had completely forgotten, but ever since that evening, her image had plagued his dreams. The next time he’d gone out, he’d never been so eager to see another person. Other than his children...and….

Pain clenched his heart as he realized, he’d never been more happy in another woman’s company since his Valaina, his wife. It alarmed him that he could feel so close to someone when all he really knew about her was her name. And then, all his thoughts flew out the proverbial window as a sound came from behind him, and without even looking he knew it was her. He was sure she made noise on purpose this time, as not to alarm him.

He turned, and again he was struck with how ethereal she was. Her hair floated around her body in a dark cloud, and her smile dazzled him. He released a breath that felt like he’d been holding it since the first time he’d seen her.

“Faeilân?” his voice came on a breath, and her smile grew even wider.

“Bard. I was not sure if you would still be here. I only now had time.” She didn’t mention that she hadn’t been around because she was busy with betrothals and spending time with said betrothed all through to mid evening.

“I was certain you’d forgotten me.” he spoke without realizing, and they both frowned at the same time.

“Of course not…” she trailed off, then smiled at him again, “I made a friend. She’s so sweet, and she’s in love but he is a blind idiot and does not see her love for what it is. And everyone sees it!” she was exasperated, and he found himself laughing at the expression she wore on her face.

“Oh? Come, tell me all about it. I’ve looked forward to you being here since last it happened.”

She gave a shy smile, and stepped forward out of the trees, and this time when Ainur followed her, he was much more mild mannered, curling up silently at their feet as they sat on another barrel.

Sometime during their talk, they ended up curled in the grass, their fingers trailing over a very happy Ainur, who, despite his attitude, loved attention. He even started purring, which after he realized it he glared at Fae.

_**We will never speak of this.** _

Fae had to stifle a laugh, her grin at Bard growing wider. She felt like her face was going to crack as much as she was smiling, he told her wonderful stories about his children and the neighboring town. It was lovely, their time together, until he started asking questions about her.

“So. You are an elf, and you live in King Thranduil’s palace, I assume?” he tilted his head, searching her eyes as if she were a great mystery.

Faeilân stilled, and both she and the giant cat looked at him. He lifted a brow.

“Yes.”

“That’s awfully vague of you.” he teased, but now it was starting to bother him. Was she married? He checked her fingers, and slowly, a brow lifted, as he discovered a silver ring resting there on her right index finger. “Oh.”

She frowned, then looked down, only to notice what he had. She gave an internal groan and looked up at him with a sad smile and apologetic eyes, “Oh.”

“So you are to be married? These barrels are from a great feast, then. I knew when I started collecting them that it must have been some kind of grand event.” He smiled, but inside his heart was crushed and pulverized to dust. Come on, come to your senses. You barely know her. His conscious was on his side.

Her head dipped, and he frowned as something akin to sadness passed her eyes, “I am.” Her and her one to two word answers.

“Do you not love him? Does he not love you?” he was curious now, and honestly, appalled at the idea that anyone could not return a love she freely offered.

“It was an arrangement. We do not yet know each other.” her voice was so sad he was tempted to hug her, and the large cat placed his head in her lap.

“I cannot imagine that would be easy, and I pray that you and he learn patience and love.”

“You are not angry?”

“How could I be? I value your friendship no less than before.”

She smiled, and she leaned her head on his shoulder, though she still seemed sad. He too, was feeling sad. A future he hadn’t even known he’d thought up crumbled before his eyes before he could even grasp it. This is the second time you’ve even laid eyes on her. Get over yourself. Now his conscious was being a little rude.

“The amount of barrels also tells me that your betrothed is a little higher up the food chain. Do I know his name?”

There was a small silence before she answered, and she didn’t lift her head to look at him, only burrowed closer, “King Thranduil.”

Shock rocked his form, and he looked down at her with wide eyes. He had expected someone of importance, but not so much that. She tensed, and he bit his lip a moment before he chuckled.

“Perhaps I should rethink that thing about friendship.” He was teasing her, but it successfully had her looking up at him with fierce eyes. When she realized he was joking, she slapped his chest, which got him laughing. After a moment, he again spoke without thinking, something he and Fae seemed to have in common, “You should visit me in Laketown sometime. My children would love to meet you, I’m sure.” He cringed, then released a breath, “If your King allows it.”

She looked up at him with a lifted brow, but a soft smile turned up her lips. She didn’t add that the only king she had was in a land far away. “It would be my pleasure. I would love to meet them.”


	10. Chapter 10

Months passed, and Fae found herself visiting Bard and Laketown as often as possible. Ainur often accompanied her, he’d become just as fond of the Bardlings as she had. Sigrid was tall for her age, and beautiful. She was inquisitive, and smart, and she often sat and had long conversations with Fae while they played with young Tilda’s hair. She taught the curious youngest one to braid hair, and she liked to practice on her Da, to his embarrassment, and their amusement. He often walked her around town with a head full of different sized braids sticking out haphazardly in every direction. She looped her arm with his where ever they went. Bain was a sweet, soft spoken boy, and he was shy with his questions for her but open with Ainur, who played with him often.

She enjoyed her time in Laketown, except when the Master’s rat, Alfrid, seemed to be leering at her from every corner, and she couldn’t even count the times Ainur had hissed at him, chasing him off. But he never gave up. It sickened her. And she was sure he was the cause of the rumors that began to spread: Bard was finally courting again.

When she was home, she either spent time with Nel and their large cats, riding them and talking, or she spent her time with Thranduil in a companionable silence as he handled business, always dropping hints of Nel’s affections towards him, mentioning how lovely she looked and things, but even still, he was completely oblivious. She wasn’t sure rather he denied it or really just didn’t know. So she teased him endlessly, and he was none the wiser.

It was on a day like this that she sat with Nel on the banks of the river. They’d brought an array of meats and fruits with them, conversating as they lounged with Ainur and Mistamor, who seemed to be enjoying their naps in the sun. Her only warning that something was about to go wrong was Ainur and Mistamor’s alert lift of their head and ears, turning in a certain direction.

“Faeilân? What are you doing here?” she dropped the piece of fruit in her hand as she heard her dear Bard’s voice. Oh. Shit.

Nel was up in an instant, blade to his throat and Mistamor at her side, growling, ears back flat against her head.

“State your business, mortal.” Iythrinel’s voice was quite cold. Quite scary, in fact.

“Nel no! He’s my friend!”

Bard’s hands were up in the air, and his confusion showed as he looked at Fae with a bewildered expression.

“Nel? Your friend that is so sweet, Nel? What happened to her being so kind?”

Nel raised a brow and lowered her blade just a bit, “You know this mortal, Fae? It would seem he also knows me?” She studied the male closer and deemed him of no threat whatsoever, if he tried, he was to be easily dealt with, and she sheathed her blade. “I’m sure introductions are in order then.”

Fae smiled triumphantly, “See, she is very kind. Iythrinel, this is Bard of Laketown. Bard, my dear friend Iythrinel, and her companion Mistamor.”

Bard gave a nervous half laugh and a respectful bow towards the pair, but gave them a wide berth as he came around to place a kiss on Fae’s forehead. “A pleasure.” he said, straightening his back. “I am only passing through. Chasing a loose barrel.” He gestured behind him with a jab of his thumb. Honestly, he’d been looking for Fae, and the doubt that showed on both of the female’s faces let him know that they were onto him. Even the felines looked at him like he was less than stupid. Well then. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“I must say, I was under the impression that dwarves and elves hated each other. Yet here you sit with one.”

They both frowned, a look passing between the women, “Dwarf?” Now he was confused, and he gestured to Nel. Her face instantly turned red with anger, and Fae feared she would explode.

“I AM NO DWARF!” her foot let loose, and connected with his shin. Bard hissed and went down, clutching his leg.

“What!? I’m sorry, I thought-”

Fae sighed, covering her face with her hand, “I assure you, Bard, that she is an elf, and the King’s personal guard.” She looked at him with a raised brow, and he gaped, looking back at the small elf.

“But she’s so small…” He cut off as Nel came at him again, holding his free hand out and leaping backwards away from her. “I’m sorry! Forgive me, it was rude for me to assume. All other elves I’ve come across were….” he trailed off, clearing his throat, his other hand still rubbing his soon to be bruised shin bone.

“Yes, this has been very entertaining and all, but didn’t you have a loose barrel to chase?” Fae offered, trying to bail him out of the situation. He grabbed hold of his chance and ran with it, placing a chaste kiss on Fae’s forehead, giving another nod in Iythrinel’s direction and limped away.

 _ **That was most entertaining.**_ Ainur snuggled next to Fae, laughing. She even heard the distant giggle of Mistamor. She rubbed a hand over her face again and gave an apologetic smile to Nel.

“Men. I know not what to tell you. But I apologize for him. He’s usually well mannered.”

“Imbecilic, you mean.” she huffed. Her eyes were glaring in the direction he left.

Fae chuckled and nodded, “We can go with that.”

 

****

 

Nel was troubled. She made her way to Thrans room, knocked and entered without giving him time to respond. He stood there, hair a knotted mess from just having washed it. “Sit.” She ordered him and with a raised brow he did. She grabbed his brush and began to slowly brush his hair, “I was out with Fae by the river today.” She started.

Thranduil hummed in answer for her to continue. “A mortal man came across us, they know each other as friends but...” She paused staring at his damp locks, “I believe he harbors feelings for her.” There was silence, and she began brushing his hair again.

“I see. Let her have her friend in that mortal, I doubt anymore will come of it.” Nel rolled her eyes and stepped back, admiring her work.

“If you say so.” She grinned at the small braid she’d snuck into his hair.

“Yes, now undo that silly braid you put in my hair, Nel.”

She pouted but did so, “You allow me no humor.”

 

****

 

Quickly approaching was the year’s end, and her marriage. She hadn’t heard from her family, nor had she heard from Mithrandir. Ainur insisted that that was a good thing, but she was not so sure. She still visited Bard, and he too was anxious for the end of the year, and she knew in her heart that, though her friendship with Nel stayed, Nel was also anxious.

What scared her most, was not the marriage itself, but her giving herself entirely to another person. Especially one she didn’t love.

In the days that followed, she went about preparing for her doom. As she was trying dresses, Thranduil passed by her door with curious eyes, their eyes met, a silent communication passed between them before he wandered off. He was going to have as much a hard time with this as she was. But mostly, again, she was worried about Nel. Fae told herself that she was going to put off the consummation for as long as possible. But unless a miracle happened and their marriage was stopped just in time, it was inevitable.

Bard, she knew, didn’t like it at all. No one was happy about any of this. But it was something the Valar had left no arguments on. She reflected on what had brought her here, and already a year had flashed by. Though a year was nothing to the elves and the Valar, Bard had grown a year older, which she’d learned was something to celebrate, not just the coming of age, but every year that was added to the mortal life. It was sweet, celebrate your life while it was there. It troubled her that in the blink of an eye, this entire little family could be lost while herself and the rest of the immortals took their every breath for granted. She’d spent that entire day with Bard and his children, celebrating his very existence.

But now, as she watched everyone bustle around busily, barrels being rolled into, the palace, she wished she could take a moment and visit Bard, sure he was down there, on the river. But she was, once again, at Thranduil’s side, their hand holding much easier now, though still not natural, greeting their guests.

Both Thranduil and Faeilân deflated when Elrond waltzed through the gates, his twin sons and daughter Arwen in tow. Fae was shocked to see that his children were all beautiful. They must get it from their mother.

“Beautiful as ever, my Lady Faeilân. A pleasure to see you again.” he spoke loudly, his children rolling their eyes as he stepped forward and placed a kiss on Fae’s cheek.

“I am honored you could make it, Lord Elrond. And to bring such beautiful companions. Introductions, I insist.” She forced the eye to his children, and she smiled brightly at them. Arwen was most definitely the most beautiful, her hair long and dark as a raven’s wing. She stepped forward first, and Arwen gave Fae a shy smile as she curtsied.

“I am Arwen, my lady. It is an honor to meet you.” her voice was soft and melodic, her eyes sparkling.

“The honor is mine, young one. I look forward to speaking with your further.” Faeilân was being honest, the girl was charming, and adorable. She smiled brightly and stepped back.

Next came forward his twins, Elladan and Elrohir, and they both bowed to Fae at the same time.

“My lady, I am Elladan.”

“And I am Elrohir. ‘Tis an honor.” They seemed charming enough, and Fae allowed them both to take her hands and kiss her knuckles, smiling at them sweetly. Thranduil lifted a brow and soon took her hand back.

Fae expected them to move on afterwards, but Elrond placed himself in front of her again. Thranduil gave her another one of his conspiratorial sideways glances, rolling his eyes, dramatically, but stepped aside as Elrond took Fae’s hand, as if he would walk away with her at any moment.

“Are you certain this is what you want?” he asked, his eyes boring down into hers. She frowned, not sure how to answer.

“I am not sure what it is you mean, my Lord?” she was hesitant, and Thranduil looked away from the guests he was greeting to peer over at them with ice cold eyes.

“Thranduil, though unmatched in his kingly abilities, is not known for his kindness...I only wonder if you are sure this is the future you’ve chosen. Your set path. Surely there are others who would be more kind?”

She didn’t know who was more offended, her, or Thranduil. Judging by his face, probably Thranduil. She stood there, her mouth opening and closing as she searched for a coherent reply, looking much like a fish. Thranduil saved her, however, by stepping forward with a cold smile in Elrond’s direction, forcefully putting himself between them.

“I am sure this is our fate, no matter how sorrowful it may be for others, friend.” he spoke loudly, and Fae dipped her head nervously.

He had no idea how close he was to the truth. Nor had he any idea how truly sorrowful it was for all involved. She lifted her chin, smiling up at Thranduil, and his surprise showed in his eyes, but he quickly recovered and lay a chaste kiss on her forehead, so fast she wasn’t even sure it had happened. A dejected Elrond moved away after giving them a nod.

Galadriel was the next to show up, and as always, she was curious, prodding, and all smiles on the surface. The woman was a mystery herself, Fae had no idea why she was so interested in her. Perhaps the competition of the most mysterious had started, and Fae simply had no idea. Celeborn, she liked though, and he was always sweet to her. Haldir greeted them, and then quickly went off, she was sure to find Iythrinel. A smile teased itself onto her face as she thought of Nel’s embarrassment when she’d realized that Haldir had taken an interest in her.

Last to arrive was her parents, and she clung to them almost desperately. Thranduil kindly gave them privacy. Gandalf was with them, and she even gave him a hug, closing her eyes as he placed a kiss on her forehead, the action meaning so much more from him, even though countless others had done so before.

And before she knew it, they were standing in the dining hall again, all eyes on her and Thranduil as they faced the crowd and prepared to exchange rings for the second time. Permanent ones.

It was time.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes things happen, and we weren't even ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are so sorry for the delay. We will try to make a point to update more, like we used to. Now there is some...uh....sex...coming up. If you don't want to read it, I've separated it from the story with ~~~~~~ happy fun time squiggles. Be sure to skip that if it offends you, it goes until the end of the chapter. Thank you for the understanding~

Her mother and father stood before them, and Fae swallowed her nerves as she watched her mother place a bright blue jewel around Thranduil’s throat. He dipped his head in thanks, placing kisses along her knuckles. The jewel was held by silver chain, the chain making an intricate design and swirling patterns around the glowing object, making it seem like twisting vines were wrapped around it, holding it in place. It matched his eyes. Faeilân held her breath as Legolas stepped forward, placing one around her neck, and she looked down at it in awe. Purple, surrounded in silver and white stones. It was beautiful, and she smiled up at him, “Thank you.” She said softly. He gave her a little smile, then pressed a soft kiss on her forehead.

Now they stood together on the same platform they had before. Their hands were clutched together, as if both of them were nervous. Their family stepped forward, and she met her mother’s eyes. The smile there spoke volumes; they were all scared.

Her mother lifted her hands and spoke, _“Lasto iâl Thranduil adh Faeilân, adh elio din Eru._ (May Varda Star-kindler hear Thranduil and Faeilân 's calls, and may Eru the Father of All bless them.)” Nielíqui stepped back and took Òmar’s hand, their eyes never leaving their daughter’s as Legolas stepped forward.

“ _Tiro Thranduil adh Faeilân Aran Einior, adh elio din Eru._ (May Manwë Lord of Wind watch over Thranduil and Faeilân, and may Eru the Father of All bless them.)” Then he stepped back, standing with Nel and Fae’s parents. She swallowed, but her mouth was dry as she turned towards Thranduil.

His face was a mask of no emotion, and he took the silver ring she wore from her finger, handing it off to whoever took it from him, his eyes never leaving Fae’s as he replaced the missing ring with a golden one. She thought he was trying to tell her something. There was something there in the glaciers. But she had no time to study it further as Mithrandir handed her a ring, and she took the silver one from Thranduil, and replaced it with a golden one, just as he had. They waited while the silver rings were added to the jewels they’d been given earlier, and then the crowd cheered, and they turned, holding hands, to face them.

It was done, they were married. And now there was no going back.

 

****

 

Iythrinel, heard the cheers around her as the couple exchanged rings. She even danced with Legolas and that Haldir man, though numbly. She felt sorrow for herself, for her king, for Fae. Poor Fae, she would give herself in all her entirety to a man she did not love tonight. While the guests still celebrated she left, stumbling to her room and locked herself away.

Fae watched Nel stumble across the floor, and for a brief moment their eyes met. Such sorrow was hidden there, she wanted to cry herself. As a matter of fact, had all these people not been here, she would have cried. She also met eyes with Haldir, who looked like he wanted to ask, but Fae just shook her head.

She danced with Thranduil again, and there was an obvious stiffness between them. But the more wine she drank, the easier it got. Her last coherent thoughts were of Bard. He’d delivered this wine.

Soon she was laughing loudly, face flushed and dancing circles around Thranduil and his twin. Twin?  
.  
“My Lord, I was not aware you had a twin..” she frowned at him, and he in turn frowned at her before realization shone in his eyes and a little smile crossed his lips.

“My Lady, I believe you are inebriated.”

“Me? Nonsense. The Vala-”

“She is definitely intoxicated. Perhaps you should take her to her room.” Gandalf nodded, and her parents, with concerned looks on their faces, seemed to agree. Though at the idea of going to any room with Thranduil instantly had her rebelling.

“I assure you all, I am perfectly fine!” She tried to stumble away, and for once actually went into a dance willingly with Elrond. She danced with her father, twice, and her mother, and even Mithrandir and Celeborn, dragging it out as long as possible.

But all too soon the night was winding down, and elves were passing out drunk from the wine or heading to their own rooms. What had ever happened to the tales she’d heard of King Thranduil’s parties that went on for a fortnight? She was disappointed, and she told him so as he helped her stumble to their rooms.

“You know. I’d heard tales of your never ending parties. And this, a big event in one’s life, was one of the shortest you’ve had.” she slurred at him, much to his amusement. He lifted a brow at her, depositing her unceremoniously on the bed in a heap.

“Did you think so? I will be sure the next lasts as long as you would like.” he stated, walking away from her, so she could only see him faintly through the lace and silk that covered the canopy bed.

“You’re being nice. Why’re you being so nice?”

“Am I not always...nice...to you, Faeilân?” She thought she saw him turn to look towards her, but she couldn’t be sure. Somewhere in the middle of this, she realized this was not the bed she’d slept in for the past year, and realization dawned.

“Ohh. It’s because I’m a virgin, ‘sn’t it?” she nodded, confirming her words before he even gave any indication it was true.

He stopped all movement, and this time she was certain he’d turned to look at her, because his long fingered hand parted the curtains and he peered down at her with soft eyes. “Yes, that is why. If there is at all a way I can make this easier for you...you will tell me.”

Fae wrinkled her nose, then waved a hand, shrugging a little, “Just get it over with. Will it hurt much?” Her hair was fanned out around her head like a pool of liquid silk, her dress still tightly in place, but her hands rested on either side of her head. Her lips were parted and her eyes were a bit fuzzy as she looked up at him. He lifted a brow at the sight she presented; drunk or not, she was a pretty little thing.

  
~~~~~~~~~~

  
“It will, for a moment. Come here.” He was surprised when she instantly obeyed him, forcing herself into a sitting position before crawling towards him. The wild look in her eyes did something to him, and he took a moment to appreciate exactly that; her crawling towards him, about to do everything he told her. This was probably the only time he would have her like this, submissive and willing. She was fiery and defiant by nature, and she disliked him.

She was in his arms suddenly, and he softened, his thoughts scattering. Her head was against his chest, and she was giggling. He wondered if he should feel bad, her being drunk as she was, but he found his fingers slowly untying the laces on the back of her dress, gradually exposing more and more of her smooth, golden brown flesh. It would probably be easier for her this way anyway. And now she was making strange little sounds, like sighs, but they couldn’t be moans, he hadn’t touched her yet….

“Mm, feels good.” she mumbled, and Thranduil found himself smiling, sitting her up so he could pull the corset off of her and look at her. She sat there, eyes half lidded, and they’d turned a curious grey green mix. Her hair covered her breasts, so he moved the heavy fall, running his fingers through it as he did. He’d wondered since he met her if it was like silk, or if his fingers would be cut off by a wild curl, but they were soft and springy, making him tilt his head curiously.

Now she was staring at him, her lips parted, and surprise took him as she leaned forward and pressed them against his own. A growl forced its way from his throat as he returned it hungrily. His fingers were all over, feeling her, and she was in his lap, straddling him, her thighs hugging him. One large hand wrapped around her hair and pulled, tugging her back so he could look at her. Her eyes were still clouded, but slowly they were clearing. So this...Could she actually want him? She pressed her lips to his again, her arms wrapping around his neck. Her breasts pressed against his chest, which was still clothed.

This thought came to him suddenly, and he wanted to feel her against him properly. Slowly, he moved forward, pushing her backwards until she was flat on her back, and then he pulled away from her. Her eyes had changed color again, a color he assumed was akin to desire but could not identify. Her hands came up as his did, but she batted them away and started to undress him herself. Soon they were both bare, and stared at each other, no longer willing to move. Her desire had been replaced with fear, but rather it was fear of him or fear of the unknown, he was uncertain.

So he tried to drug her with his kisses, Fae making soft sounds as his silvery trusses tickled along her sensitized skin. She reveled in the tingle his mouth left in its wake. Many times she found herself burying her fingers into his hair, but he didn’t seem to mind, only looked up at her briefly and went back to exploring her. And did he explore. His tongue found every crevice, every little mole, as if committing it all to memory. She writhed under him, gasping, tugging at his hair. And he hadn’t even entered her yet.

But she was slick with need, more than ready, and that was when something hard brushed against her inner thigh, and she frowned, looking down. It would appear that she was not the only one ready. Thranduil’s erection brushed against her leg again, and she blushed. Not only was it her first time seeing one, but he seemed to be rather well endowed. But, what did she know? She didn’t have any to compare it with. She bit her lip, as he’d stopped nibbling and licking, and she noticed he was staring at her as she stared. Her blush darkened.

“I don’t think you’ll fit…” she trailed off, clearing her throat and looking away from him.

He smirked, and his fingers delved into her folds, thumb brushing over her cleft, making her gasp, her back arching. Quickly, his clever fingers had her building, a fire starting in her gut, and she was whimpering and clawing at his shoulders, using her feet to try and peddle backwards and away. But he shushed her, stopping her movements by laying himself over her, silencing her whines by covering her mouth with his.

He kissed her until she was dizzy, and his fingers continued their torture, thumb continuously circling her cleft as his fingers plunged over and over into velvet heat. Her whimpers as she neared release were driving him wild, as were the movement of her hips, arching up to meet the thrust of his fingers each time they drove forward. She was a virgin, yes, but her instincts….

Her fingers gripped his shoulders as he kissed down her neck, leaving behind a blazing trail, and he knew, the moment her nails dug into his flesh that she was close. Her fear was palpable, he nuzzled into the area between throat and shoulder, gently biting, then sucking, repeatedly, until he was sure a dark bruise would be there, “Let go, Faeilân. Release for me…”

His voice was like a dark promise, pure seduction in her ear, and she released in a rush, a loud gasp filling the silence as she shook almost violently around him. He wasted no time, positioning himself between her thighs, and sheathed himself completely before going still while she was still in the throes of her orgasm.

Thranduil hoped that his method had worked, and he wasn’t sure, as her face was buried in his chest. Her shoulders were shaking, but he wasn’t sure if she was crying or if she was still shaking from the release. But then he felt it, the wetness on his chest. He closed his eyes and held back a sigh; so she was crying.

His fingers found her hair again, and he bent over her, whispering soft things, things he didn’t even remember after speaking them. He felt like they stayed like that forever; him inside her, her crying, it was not the best of situations, but he tried to be patient, giving her as long as she needed. His patience was lengthened by the memory of Elrond, “Thranduil is not known for his kindness.” He grit his teeth.

Faeilân looked up at Thranduil, and she couldn’t make out the expression on his face. He didn’t look cold, but he didn’t look warm either, and his eyes were clouded. She realized that he had slid out, and was slack. She wanted to cry again.

“I’m sorry.” she mumbled, hiding her face. His arms came around her and tightened, but he said nothing. She risked a peek up at him, and he was looking down at her with a straight face, but his eyes held a little warmth.

“Do not apologize.”

“How do I…?”

He peered at her for a moment, but seemed to get her meaning, as he reached for her hand and led it to his flaccid member. He showed her how to move her hand, and on her own she learned that if she feathered her thumb over the head, he made a low sound of approval. Soon, he was like iron encased in velvet again, and for the second time she parted her legs for him.

This time when he entered her, it didn’t hurt as bad, but she still winced, and he stilled, looking down at her, checking. Biting her lip, she lifted her hips, making him gasp, and he took that as encouragement and began a slow rhythm. He filled her completely, and he was soon gasping as her sheath gripped him tightly. He forced himself so keep that same slow pace, determined to see her come undone under him again, and this time with no tears, and no pain.

Her nails were like whips, fast and sharp as they came down on his back, her her head was thrown back after a while, her moans echoing through his chambers. He snaked a hand between them, pressing his thumb back into the same position it had been in before, and circled, her hips rising to meet him. And she got even louder. The moment she released again, her body clamped down on his, her nails leaving marks as they raked down his sides. And only a handful of thrusts later, he found his own release, letting out a muffled moan as he buried his face into her neck, fingers gripping her hair tightly, and then a deep, guttural growl as he finished.

They stayed there for a moment, locked together, her hands gently tracing the marks she’d left behind, before petting his hair, letting her breathing settle. Fae didn’t even remember falling asleep.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The feels...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, WE'RE BACK!!
> 
> We are again so, so sorry for the delay, and for those of you who read, will be happy to know that we've started, as of today, writing ahead again. So when we're gone or busy, we'll still have something to post for you.  
> The characters (if you write, you know this), tend to speak to you. And when they go silent, you don't get to write. Well, they finally spoke, and we weren't even particularly ready for what came of it.  
> This was one of the harder chapters to write. Fae and Nel are our babies. We love them. And when they hurt, so do we. 
> 
> So thank you, for the messages, the comments. And we're so happy to hear from you. Kudos and comments give life!~

CHAPTER TWELVE

 

Fae woke in the middle of the night, a gasp coming from her throat as she moved. Not only did her head hurt, but her lower regions did as well. Frowning, she pulled back the covers, and there on the sheets was evidence that she was no longer a virgin, and her marriage was official. She felt sick to her stomach for a moment, but swallowed, collecting herself. Then she noticed that Thranduil was not in the bed with her.

It took a moment for her to notice the sound of water coming from the other side of the room. Sliding from the bed, she plucked a silk robe from a small couch in the corner and wrapped it around herself, padding silently on bare feet towards the noise. She stopped there in the doorway for a moment, watching Thranduil as he sat peacefully, steam rising from the water around him. He was truly beautiful, and she had just opened her mouth to speak when she saw them. She couldn’t hold back the gasp that left her mouth.

Scars, a shock of scars down the left side of his face, and as he turned quickly, she realized that his left eye was completely useless. His glamor was back up an instant later, but what had been seen, could not be unseen. They stared at each other for an immeasurable amount of time, searching each others eyes.

“How?” was the only thing she could think to ask. A little smirk played across his features, and he settled back down in the hot pool.

“Dragon. During the Battle of Dagorlad.” He said simply, as if it didn’t matter. But her heart ached for him. How could he have survived? He looked at her suddenly, any softness, tenderness, or vulnerability he’d shown was gone, all traces. He actually sneered at her.

“Now you know the truth of why my first wife is not present in my life.” The smile he wore was cold, and she gave an involuntary shiver. “Will you too go running for the shores of Aman? Or to your little mortal, perhaps?”

Anger took over, and she glared at him, realizing that obviously, Iythrinel had told him about Bard. She should have known, but could not find it in her to be angry at Nel for it. She sighed, and after bringing her temper under control, she looked at him with the straightest face she could muster, “You cannot help that you have scars. I will not run because of that. If I were to run, it would be the fault of your personality. Highness.”

He lifted a brow at that, and she was satisfied. So she let the robe fall from her shoulders and settled into the water on the side opposite him, letting the hot sooth her soreness away. They stared at each other for a while, not speaking, and it was only about an hour before dawn before they spoke again. She rose from the water, completely adoring the idea of drying off and going back to bed, when he spoke up.

“You will not be seeing him again, Faeilân.”

She stopped, then turned to look at him over her shoulder, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

“What?”

“You know of whom I speak. I must admit I was surprised to find you still a virgin after what Iythrinel told me. How long have you been seeing him?”

Fae stared at him with wide eyes, her breathing labored. Thranduil was her husband, yes, but Bard…. She wasn’t sure she could go without seeing his smile again. She steeled herself, lifting her chin.

“He is a friend, nothing more. And we became so on the first night I arrived.” And it was the truth, she had no reason to hide it from him. It would be poor choice to kill the man you were sent to save. But she couldn’t make any promises if he thought he could strike her and get away with it. As from his eyes she got the feeling he wanted to.

“You will not see him again.” And he sank back in the water, letting his head rest against the edge.

“Why do you even care!?” her temper, the one she’d been holding back all this time, finally released, and she let loose a torrent of hostility towards him, “You have everything. Literally, everything. I have given you, everything. My hand, though neither of us wanted it, my virginity, and one day I will even give you a child! I have been here a year, and have not asked anything of you. This one thing I want, and you would take it from me? What more could you possibly want? You don’t know me, or love me. These rings mean nothing without our hearts! So why, do you care, what I do?”

By the end of it, she was winded, and tears were in her eyes again. She took deep breathes, in through her nose, out through her mouth, and didn’t look away from the cold glare he gave her. As was the entirety of their relationship, they stared. And then he shrugged.

“You are right. It does not matter. Keep seeing your mortal then. What is a few years? Lay with him, give him a child even. What is fifty years to an elf? I would assume he has already lived half of that. They will all die eventually. And then you will be left with me.”

Apparently, the horror on her face was obvious, as he gave a little nod of his head and dismissed her by closing his eyes and laying his head back against the edge of the pool again. Her heart was in her throat as she turned and left, wrapping the robe around her again and fleeing towards the rooms she’d been in since her arrival.

As she burst through the doors, Ainur shot alertly to his feet, looking around wildly though his eyes were clouded with sleep.

_**What? What’s happened? he asked, sniffing at her, and a low growl rumbled in his chest. Has he hurt you? I’ll-** _

“No.” she sobbed, wrapping her arms around his neck and laying her head over his. He nuzzled her, confusion prominent in his mind.

_**Tell me, Faeilân. What has happened?** _

His voice had always comforted her, and it helped to settle the tears that poured down her face. She told him, or rather, showed him, the conversation from the bath. His mind glowed red, hot with anger, and he probably would have killed Thranduil in that moment had Fae’s arms not been locked so securely around his neck.

_**Easy, little one. I will take you to the mortal.** _

****

Iythrinel was just walking down the halls when Ainur sped past her, Fae on his back and she could hear the woman's slight whimpers. Confused, she did not try to follow, knowing she would never catch up.

“What has he done?” She asked herself, now speeding towards Thranduil’s room. Once at the door she barged in, her eyes first landing on the messy sheets, then on the open door of the bath room.

“Thran.” She said as she walked towards it and was met by the man with a cold look on his face, a robe tied securely around him.

“What is it Iythrinel?” He asked, voice devoid of all emotion. She flinched back but kept eye contact, refusing to back down from him.

“What have you done to Fae?”

He sneered as he pushed past her. “Nothing has been done to the woman, I simply told her to go and run off to that mortal you told me about.”

Iythrinel stiffened and rounded on Thranduil, she was truly mad at him now, “Thranduil, I have known you for nearly our entire lives, tell me, did you question her innocence? Did you ridicule her because of that man? After she gave herself to you?”

He did not turn to her, “It is none of your business, now leave, but after you take care of that mess.” he gestured to the bed.

“I will not, I am going to go and find her, good day.” she said coldly and left the room, with a whistle Mistamor was at her side. “Come on girl, we must find our friends.”

Breaking through the foliage on her way to the river, Nel quickly halted Mistamor’s movements. “Orcs?” she breathed out, she would know that vile smell anywhere. Sliding off the large panther she stalked forward and parted a bush, there in a clearing was a group of around ten orcs, and what captured her heart in ice cold dread was the sight of an elven child. He lay crying in the middle of the group as they jeered and pushed at him.

“Mistamor, I will distract the orcs, you grab the child and take him to cover.” Mistamor nudged against her and she stood knocking an arrow and shot it through an orcs hand that she deemed far too close to the child as she burst through the foliage, "Keep your vile hands away from the child scum." she said and quickly as the orcs turned to her Mistamor leaped in and snatched the fearful child up and away.

The orcs, shocked at first, laughed and brought out their weapons, "A wee lil elf, who does she think she is boys? We shall have fun with her, break her and eat her I say!" And with that the 10 all pounced on her. The first few she easily defeated, and she would have just as easily defeated the others but a roar bellowed and quickly she saw the child attempt to enter the fray. Her eyes widened.

"I can help!" He claimed but he did not see a black blade about to pierce through him.

"No!" She lunged and grabbed the child, hissing as the blade pierced her from behind, through her. Quickly and with such fury she spun, blade still inside of her and beheaded the beast. Her eyes were on fire.

"You will not harm a hair on this child's head!" And like a furious beast along with Mistamor she tore the orcs to shreds. Finally, she stumbled, nearly falling but Mistamor quickly caught her on her back, shifting she pulled herself on and turned to the child holding out a hand. "Come we must get you home." He fearfully got on with her avoiding the blade still embedded in her and felt her slouch.

"Miss?" He asked, but received no response. A sudden voice entering his mind scared him.

 _ **‘Hold onto her, do not let her fall!’**_ He did as he was told and The giant panther sped through the woods.

The guards scrambled when a great panther landed before them snarling.

“Is that not Lady Iythrinel’s companion?” One guard asked. They paused at a whimper and saw that on the great beast was Iythrinel shrouded over a child. “She has a sword through her! Hurry summon the healers!”

The child tumbled off, sobbing, and with him fell Iythrinel, though Mistamor covered her body with her own, growling at any who got near.

“Move aside!” The guards parted and Legolas came forward, “Nel?” he whispered, and tried to go forward, but even he was denied by Mistamor. Draining of nearly all color as he saw a steady pool of blood start to grow he turned, “Send word to Father!”

The guard shook his head, “We already have Prince Legolas.”

Mistamor looked around but could not sense Fae, she would only trust Nel to her. _**‘Ainur! You must bring Lady Faeilân back, Iythrinel has suffered a grave injury!’**_

****

Bard growled as the pounding on his door continued. “Go away!” he’d said it over and over, but still it continued. So finally, he got up, complaining the entire way. “This better be- Fae?” he stood there in a stupor, staring at the tear streaked face of Faeilân with sleep clogged eyes, squinting against the early morning light. Ainur was next to her, looking at him with sad eyes.

“B-Bard? I’m sorry it’s so early...I ju-”

Without asking, he wrapped his arms around her and brought her to his chest, laying his head over her own as a torrent of fresh tears rocked her frame. Cradling her, he brought her inside, letting Ainur pass first before he kicked the door closed, sitting at his small kitchen table, rocking Fae in his lap.

“Shh, shh now, darlin’. Tell me what’s wrong.” he cooed and coaxed her, and she felt like a child, even more so by the fact that she couldn’t stop crying, nor could she understand the relief she felt at being able to feel Bard, well and alive, against her. Thranduil, in his cruelty, had made a valid point. She looked up into Bard’s handsome face with watery eyes, and she couldn’t hold back. She started from the beginning, the very...beginning. Everything poured from her mouth, the truth of her marriage, why she’d been sent, who had sent her. She didn’t know if he believed her or not, she couldn’t tell by the strangely stoic face he was wearing.

“And then he said that you would die so my love for you didn’t matter and that after you and your children were gone all I would have left is him and I couldn’t bear it I had to come see you before I could never again….” she trailed off, the sentence rushed and all strung together, and she was breathing heavily by the end of it, ready for another round of tears. And still he stared.

“Bard. Would you say something? Please..”

“You love me?”

She wanted to punch him. Out of all that, that was what he’d gotten? But her eyes softened, and her hand reached to caress his face.

“You are all I think about. All through the day, in my dreams it is your face I see. I do love you, and your children. But I cannot deny that the elvenking made a very valid point. I am immortal, and you will die. And when you’re gone, Sigrid, Bain, and then Tilda….” she trailed off again as her lip trembled and fresh tears dripped down her face, and a deep sob shook her shoulders again. Bard cupped her face with both of his hands.

“Oh, no, no. Shhh, sweetheart.” his voice whispered against her lips, and then he was kissing her. His hands framed her face, and her fingers went into his hair. He kissed her until she felt faint, and then he kissed her some more. He kissed her until she was panting and breathless and wanting. He stared into her eyes fiercely, and then a slow smile turned up his lips. “So it was your first time last night, then?”

She nodded, because she couldn’t speak yet. A little grin spread across his face. “And did he render you speechless?” he asked, and again she shook her head. Her fingers were still in his hair. She loved his hair, brown and streaked with the greys of wisdom, the greys of age, of experience. He leaned forward, and his lips brushed over hers, barely touching, but she felt it all the way to her center.

“And you are a daughter of the Valar?” His nose nudged at her neck, and she bit her lip.

“Yes..” Was her breathy answer.

“And did he take his time with you? Did he make you call out his name?”

He was torturing her, her breathing ragged, and she tugged at his hair as his lips trailed path of fire down her neck. She found herself sitting astride him, her body pressed firmly into his as his lips’ blazing trail lit the rest of her aflame. She felt his arousal pressing insistently against her core, and she knew she wanted him, right there, in that chair.

Fae let out a shriek and fell when a loud sound shocked her, and Bard stood quickly, hauling her up off the floor even as he made a grab for his bow. But it was Ainur, bursting from Bain’s room and into the main room.

 _ **My lady, we must make haste!**_ he roared, and this time Bard heard the voice, not just the growls. His eyes grew wide and he looked at Faeilân.

“I can hear…”

“Yes, I allowed it after I told you the truth.”

 _ **There is no time for this. Lady Iythrinel has been mortally wounded!**_ he shouted at them, pacing along the ground as if caged, snarling and hissing. Her breath caught in her throat and Bard grabbed her up, acting quickly.

“Go, I would follow but I am sure your king would have my head.” it was half joke, half serious. Thranduil’s personal guard was probably dying and it was not the time for the elvenking to meet his wife’s significant other. Bard shuddered at the very idea.

He opened the door, looking about before he stepped back, Faeilân already climbing atop Ainur’s back. He looked at her with dark eyes, sadness lurking there.

“Be safe, be swift. I pray for her recovery.” he dipped his head to her, and she gave him a sweet kiss before Ainur burst from the doorway, eating up the ground in haste.

_**We are on our way, Mistamor. Do not let her slip into the fade!** _


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, dreams and hopes are made to be crushed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, about us being back....
> 
> In my defense.....I got a job right as I began the writing schedule again. And school started back up. Yeaahhhh, you guys know how it is. So. I just got used to my schedule and I'm off, so we were like, "Let's hope some people still maybe sorta kinda like us. Maybe." So here is to you, the people who are still here. We're so sorry. xoxo We've written this and have already started on the next chapter. Something crazy is about to happen.

Fae pushed through the line of elves standing around an area just outside the gate, and had just caught a glimpse of Iythrinel when they grabbed her, dragging her backwards. She fought and kicked, unwilling to release her Valar power on them, but if it was needed….

Mistamor lifted her head and growled, swatting her paw at them, and they released the woman they held. She shrugged them off, pushing forward and slumped to her knees next to her, reaching for Nel’s hand. She looked so weak, her breathing laboring. For the first time, she saw the shock of scars running along her right side. Just like Thranduil’s. Proof she’d been the one to save him, and had suffered herself. How had she hidden these from him all this time?

“Legolas!” she lifted her head, and found him not far away, rather as close as the panther would allow him. She looked at Mistamor, and the panther backed away, settling down next to Nel again.

Legolas stood there, frowning. He approached her slowly, then kneeled on the other side. Legolas, slowly, dropped his hand to her face, lightly caressing her scars.  
“Why did she not tell me?” his voice was softer than she had ever heard it. It was sad, and she shook her head, gesturing to the blade.

“You will never have the chance to ask her if we do not heal her. Pull the blade.”

He looked at her in alarm, no doubt fearful that Nel would bleed to death if he did, but he did so anyway, and the blade was free in one smooth motion, and Nel’s body arched and writhed in spasms of pain. Again, a fresh wave of tears spilled from Fae’s eyes.

The blade turned to dust before their eyes, and Legolas met the fearful eyes of Fae.

“A morgul blade? Here?” the disbelief was evident in Legolas’, and without thinking, Fae lifted her friend into her arms and made a dash for her rooms.

“Ainur, Mistamor, Legolas, come with me!” she didn’t look to see if they were following, and just as she was reaching Nel’s rooms, Thranduil was a flurry of haughty anger, a bored look on his face.

“What has she don- Nel?” he stopped, staring at the cold dead look in Nel’s eye as the fade slowly came forward, creeping to take her life and turn her into something bred of pure evil.

“Move aside, elvenking.” Fae snarled, taking on the attitude of one of the cats as she breezed passed him. He followed in a numb stupor, staring down at Nel’s face.

“What happened...where did these scars-”

“The only one who knows what happened is the child that was with her.” Legolas explained, pacing, his eyes never leaving Nel. Fae busied herself stripping her of clothing, trying to see the full extent of her injury. And it was something she hoped she would never see in her life again.

Blood, turning black, pumped freely from the wound, the flesh around it also turning color. Nel’s skin was going pale, like her eye, which looked to be frosting over. She was dying, no amount of kingsfoil was going to cure this. Fae looked down at her hopelessly.

“Well? Do something!” Thranduil, in his anger, let his glamour slip, and he was snarling, standing in Fae’s face. She didn’t even have the energy to give a fuck what he said, or to even be angry at him. Legolas reached forward, pulling his father back from the smaller woman.

“Ada, I do not think….”

“Shut the door and lock it tight.” Fae spoke through clenched teeth, staring down at Iythrinel as she inched into the last stages of entering the fade. The blade had been allowed to remain for too long.

“What ar-”

“SHUT AND LOCK THE DOOR.” She turned her angry gaze on Thranduil, who had started the question, and the look in her eyes, now glowing, silenced him. Legolas asked no questions, shutting and locking the door, then turned back towards them with wide eyes. The two cats put themselves right at the entrance, just in case.

“What is about to happen can not be shown, or spoken, to anyone. The future is at risk. You must swear on your lives.You will be bound to me by your word.” her voice had deepened, swelling with power, the power of her family, and strands of her hair started to lift as if a static charge filled the air.

Thranduil tilted his head, eyes narrowing, “What are you?”

“I swear.” Legolas looked at his father, exasperated. He was starting to wonder about his father’s priorities. Thranduil looked at him, then at Nel, and his eyes changed, like something in him broke.

“I swear. Save her.”

Faeilân knelt over her friend, a small smile on her lips as a softly glowing light emanated from her hands as she lay it over the gaping wound. Nel’s entire body jerked, and foam had started to pour from her mouth.

“Do not fall into the Fade, Iythrinel. There is still work to be done.”

The first bloodcurdling shriek, the first of many, ripped it’s way out of Iythrinel’s throat, startling all present. Mistamor moved forward, but Ainur nudged her back to her place by the door.

Fae’s entire concentration was on the woman lying, writhing in pain on the bed. The words in her home language were rushed, but efficient, her soul seeping into the other woman, cleansing her body of all impurities, all poisons, and through it all Nel thrashed. Her words seemed to echo softly around the entire room, leaving no room for evil and no room for error. Legolas’ eyes widened in realization, both males watching in amazement.

“Faeilân is of the Valar…” his words were whispered, and Thranduil looked at him sharply.

And then it was done, and Ainur was at Faeilân’s side before she could slump to the floor. She pulled herself onto his back, the large cat never once complaining when she tugged at his fur. Many times she was violently ill, spewing black tar onto the floor next to them.

“Iythrinel will live.” was all she said before she let the sea of darkness come up and swallow her.

 

*******

Thranduil stared blankly at the woman that had fallen at his feet. Much like him, Legolas did the same, but only hesitated a moment before he rushed forward and scooped her into his arms. His hand brushed over her face, and then he pressed an ear to her chest, listening for her heart. When he was sure she was fine, he settled her back onto Ainur’s back, then moved to the bed, staring down into Iythrinel’s pale face.

“She’s alive.” He breathed, turning to look at his father. His father, that was still rooted to the spot, looking between Fae, and the spot where she had emptied any contents that had once been in her stomach onto the floor. Legolas was quick to lead his father to the chair by Iythrinel’s bedside and sat him down, his father would be no help as of now. Turning to Ainur he spoke. “We should take her to her room, I will help you and get a healer to check on her.”  
Ainur dipped his head slowly, and with one last glare to Thranduil, turned and waited for Legolas to open the door for him, rubbing his head against Mistamor before leaving.

Thranduil sat, back propped against the headboard of Iythrinel’s bed, her head in his lap. He hadn’t left except to bathe since it had happened. He was conflicted, confused, and the last words he’d spoken to her replayed over and over in his mind. What if she had died, and those were the last words he’d ever spoken to her? His eyes drifted to her scars, so like his own. It had been her to drag his body away from the fire then.

His eyes softened as she shifted in her sleep, his fingers lightly brushing over the scars there. Iythrinel. Ever foolish, ever saving his life. A little smile touched her mouth, and he smiled in return, standing to leave. As he walked down the hall, he noticed Legolas stepping from Faeilân’s room, backing out to quietly shut the door behind him. He didn’t notice his father watching him until he turned to go visit Nel.

“Oh, Father. I hadn’t noticed you.” Legolas dipped his head, placing his hand over his heart, though he didn’t feel it. Anger and disapproval radiated from him, and it did not go unnoticed. A little grin touched Thranduil’s lips.

“I see you dressed yourself.” he commented, returning the gesture, and Legolas tugged self consciously at his clothing.

“So did you.” Neither spoke it, but they were both used to Iythrinel laying out clothes for the next day the night before. She hadn’t been there to do so in several days.

“So I did…” after a moment, he spoke up again, tilting his head, “How does the Valar woman fair?”

Again, that anger flashed in his son, and Thranduil lifted a brow. Ever respectful, his son dipped his head and starting moving past him, “Oh, you mean your wife? Perhaps you should check for yourself.” And rounded the corner, disappearing into Iythrinel’s room. He stood there a moment, debating, but found his feet carrying him into Faeilân’s room anyway.

The first sight he was greeted with was the large cat, curled around her, and her fist was buried in his fur much like the night she’d saved Nel. His heart clenched at the realization; she’d saved his best friend. Ainur lifted his head, and as soon as he recognized who had entered, the cat bared his teeth.

“Easy, it’s alright.” Fae’s voice was weak, but sure, and Ainur huffed and lay his head back on the bed, showing the small woman. She sat up slowly, her eyes blank as she looked him over, but she didn’t say anything.

“I assume you are well?” He asked, dipping his head to her, and she struggled from her sitting position to stand, Ainur gently nudging her, helping her to stand.

“I have seen better days.”

The silence that followed was deafening. And slowly, Ainur pressed against her side, she made her way towards the door.

“If that was all you neede-” her breath caught as slender fingers wrapped around her wrist, and only the tightening of her fingers of the other hand, which still remained in Ainur’s fur, kept the large cat in place. When she turned to glance first at the pale hand wrapped around her wrist, then at the person it was attached to, she was shocked to see the softness of his ice blue eyes.

“Thank you, for saving her life.” He was bent at the waist, his beautiful hair falling over his shoulders as he placed his right hand over his heart, and he still hadn’t let go of her wrist. She was half scared his fingers would slip down and lace fingers with her own. She tugged gently, not wanting to be rude, but not wanting him to touch her anymore. She placed the hand he’d touched, which now tingled, and pressed it to her chest, dipping her head a little and gave a weak smile.

“She is my friend too, Highness. But your thanks is welcome. Thank you for checking on me. But, if you’ll excuse me, now.”

Suddenly, his eyes narrowed, and she lifted her chin, narrowing her own right back.

“Are you going to him?” his voice was low, void of the emotion he’d just held. It frankly pissed her off.

“I am on my way to see Iythrinel, is that quite alright with you?” she snapped the question at him, then turned on her heel, Ainur keeping her from falling and making her exit less dramatic.

By the time Faeilân made it to Iythrinels room she discovered that she was awake, and being pampered by Legolas. Her long hair was down and being brushed, and her scars still there to be seen by any who looked. “Oh, Fae. Come in.” Nel patted the space beside her in the bed.

Legolas took one look at Fae’s less than excited expression and smiled wryly, “Father was himself I assume?” at that Iythrinel scowled.

“Fae come and sit with me, you look as if you’re about to fall where you stand. Tell me what he’s done this time.”

Faeilân chuckled, gently settling herself next to her best friend, sighing as she sat back against the headboard and glanced over at the two, “Well, first he thanked me for saving his best friend, and then, he asked me if I was going to my human. I gently explained that I was coming here. And I didn’t look back.” she shrugged, lightly petting Ainur and, if a tiger had eyebrows, he would have lifted one at her.

 ** _Gently?_** He asked her, nudging at her hand. She frowned at him, just in time for a flying ball, a huge ball, of black fur to come hurtling onto the bed.

 _ **My lady, you’re alive!**_ All present clearly heard the voice of Mistamor as she threw herself onto Iythrinel, lapping at her face and nuzzling her enthusiastically. Unable to be fully shocked, Iythrinel wrapped her arms around the large cat, ignoring the shock of pain she’d received from the contact.

“Did I, or did I not just hear the voice of my companion echo in my head?”

Legolas had dropped the brush in shock and was staring wildly at the cat, then squinted, shifting his gaze to Faeilân.

“So what Legolas told me is true, you are of the Valor…..Honestly, it explains much.” Iythrinel shrugged, and the squint from Legolas turned to her, as if she questioned his honesty. She looked at him and grinned.

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to keep such a large secret, but you must understand. I am here for a reason.” Slowly, she explained, from the beginning, about the dwindling elf population, and the need for strong heirs to continue their survival. Many times she stressed that “no offense” was intended, as she received more than her fair share of “squints.” By the time her tale was done, the two seemed to accept it, and silently agreed that, since Thranduil was not present, he did not need to know.

“And so...you and that imbecile of a human….” Nel trailed off, eyeing Fae, and the dark blush that filled her cheeks spoke volumes. With an exaggerated huff, Legolas stood and stretched.

“I see the time for me to leave has come and passed. I will see myself out, let the two of you...speak.” his exit was hasty, and the two stared after him in question, but he missed the stares, as halfway down the hall, he almost ran Tauriel right into the ground. He caught her, last minute, wrapping his fingers around her wrist and pulled her into him, making her gasp. Soon after, she pushed herself away and straightened herself, brushing invisible dirt from the front of her tunic.

“My Lord, I was just on my way to see Lady Iythrinel. I assume you have just come from the same mission. Tell me, how does she fare?” Her hazel eyes were bright with worry as she looked up into his eyes, and he smiled softly, his hands coming to rest just above her elbows as he looked down into her open face. A small blush dusted her cheeks, but for her pride’s sake, he ignored it.

“The Lady Faeilân is very skilled in the art of healing. Iythrinel is already moving about, awake and laughing, gossiping about my father.” the sigh of relief from Tauriel made him smile even wider, and she looked up, then away.

“I will be off to see her then. I was worried about disturbing her. I am glad you ran into me first.” her little joke got the desired effect, and Legolas laughed softly, a sound she rarely got to hear, and it lightened both of their hearts, and drew the ear of another a short distance away.

Thranduil lifted a brow as he caught the sight of Legolas and Tauriel. So casually they touched each other, and disgust tore through him. His son, highborn and royal, with a lowly Silvan elf? He huffed, turning on his heel and walking away from the sight. Though, halfway to his destination, he turned back, casually passing the corridor, making sure his footsteps were heard. The two broke apart in a hurry, Legolas looking more than a little annoyed by the interruption, also holding question in his eyes as he looked at Tauriel; why had she been so quick to pull away from him?

“Legolas. Tauriel” his voice was casual, and both dipped their heads in respect.

“My Lord.” Tauriel’s bow was even lower than his son’s, and he had to at least admit she knew her place. He would ensure this even more.

“The spider problem grows. Come, I must speak with you, Tauriel.” He made the emphasis on her name as both members of the small party made move to follow him. Legolas frowned, but dipped his head and turned on his heel, heading off towards the exit, going to get a head start of the scouting. Sheepishly, Tauriel followed after her King.

Once they were in his rooms, he paced back and forth, slowly, his eyes catching the reflection of the bathing pool, making them seem alive and intimidating. The room itself was dark, reflecting his soul, and his mood.

“Your report? Since I am assuming you have just returned from a scout?” he spoke evenly, not looking at her.

Giving a deep sigh, Tauriel went into an explanation, rather than a report, that soon turned into a rant. The spiders, more and more, turned up daily. The hunting parties had to be doubled, for every one they killed, five more would take their places. She suggested that they go to the source and destroy them. That was the only time Thranduil saw fit to interrupt.

“No.” He turned his cool gaze to her, his expression blank, and he was secretly pleased by her shocked expression.

“....No?”

“I care nothing for other lands, only this one. Their demise is of no concern to me. Do what you must, but I will not risk my people. You are dismissed, Tauriel.”

He turned fully to the pool after dismissing her, and with a red face, he was sure with anger, she bowed quickly and turned to leave.

“Oh yes. Tauriel…”

She stopped, but didn’t turn back to him, “My Lord?”

“It seems my son has grown fond of you.”

A small smile graced her face, but still she didn’t turn. “I did not notice, your grace. I did not think you would approve of your son pledging himself to me, I am only a guard.”

“You are right. I would not.”

Her heart stopped in her chest, and this time she did turn, staring at him in shock. She’d known, but still, she’d held just enough hope in her heart to be crushed.

“Be sure not to give him hope where there is none. I would never agree to his union with such a lowly Silvan elf. You may go.”

Before he got the pleasure of seeing her tears, she bowed her head and fled the room. She missed the pleased smile that graced the king’s face.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone is getting a bit out of control....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in the same night....day....whaaaaaaaat? Yeah, we're making an effort to be back for real this time. And some of you may not like the way things are going........
> 
> Have hope. Keep an open mind. We're not out to break hearts....
> 
> What am I on about, we break our own hearts writing these things. The characters take over and write themselves. But we have a plan! Hopefully everyone will be happy.

“Tauriel?” Legolas grinned as the redhead flipped backwards out of a tree after shooting a spider with her arrow. The arrow had been let loose with a little more force than Legolas was expecting, and nor was the spider expecting it, as it now lay in a crumpled heap, shuddering out it’s last breath.

“You’re a little angry today, are you not?” He teased, but he frowned as she turned towards him, avoiding his gaze, and instead of returning his playful banter, dipped her head.

“Just taking care of the problem, as I promised our king I would, my Lord.”

Legolas, pulled her to a stop as she started to walk away, and her skin tingled as his fingertips made contact with the bit of skin that was bare on her wrist. She tugged away quickly, making him scowl.

“Tauriel? What has gotten into you? I was only teasing. Something is wrong.”

“Nothing, sire. It was just brought to my attention that you may admire me for more than just my skill with a bow.”

“Is it not already so obvious?” he tilted his head, curious, as he was very forward and open with his advances. Hope blossomed in her chest as she finally met his eyes, and his smile broke her heart. They could never be. His father had made sure of that. Clearing her throat, her eyes dulled, and his dulled with hers, and she turned to walk away again.

“A union between us would never be possible. I am only a Silvan elf, and you may one day marry into another powerful elven family, expanding our kingdoms.”

“...Father, put this in your head, didn’t he?” Legolas’ voice was tight with anger, and his eyes were cold, fists tightening at his sides. It was rare that Legolas ever showed this side of himself, and a brief flash of alarm went through her.

“Lady Arwen, for example, will be of age very soon.”

“He did...What did he say, exactly?”

“My Lord. Whatever he said, it was nothing I did not already know myself. Please, let it go.”

And with that, Tauriel took to the trees, disappearing in the darkness of the leaves, the only sound alerting him to her whereabouts was the death screech of another spider. Anger overtook him, and before he could think better of it, he was taking off in the trees himself, but in the opposite direction, heading back towards the palace. His father was in a meeting, but he couldn’t control himself as he thrust open the doors and interrupted the entire affair.

“Oh, Legolas, how nice of you to join us.” His father’s voice was, as always, cool as he met his son’s angry gaze, the knowing smirk already on his lips, but as he realized that, this time, it was real anger on his child’s face, the smirk faded.

“Leave us. We will continue this after I have spoken with my son.” The gathering broke swiftly, most welcoming the break from their king’s oppressive presence.

Legolas watched silently, seethingly as they left, and as soon as the doors closed, Legolas looked at his father.

“What business is it of yours to bother in my affairs?” he asked, his voice tight.

“Depending on what affairs, I have all the right in all of Arda. I am your father, and your king.”

“You do not have the right to tell me whom I love.”

“Oh, Tauriel. Please, Legolas, you will meet other worthy of your time, worthy of your title. Like most women, they would give anything just to be called a Queen. You must choose wisely, my son.”

Legolas wasn’t sure why he was shocked that his father’s opinion of women, especially Tauriel, who had done him no wrong, were so low. But then he thought of his mother, and thought of Iythrinel and poor Fae. He straightened even more.

“If I want to be with Tauriel, I will be. You have no room to talk, you married a good woman and treat her like orc filth just because you wanted a useless relic from a forgotten age. rather it was Grandmother’s or not, it was not needed. It was your pride and your greed and now you’re both stuck here, you even more unhappy than before.”

Thranduil’s entire body had tightened, and he was having trouble keeping his glamor up as he stared with steely eyes at Legolas. It was then, that look that Thranduil had never given him before, that Legolas knew he had pushed his father too far.

“She is a phase. You will outgrow. Now you are dismissed, I have more important matters to attend to.”

“Such as?”

“The boy. Guards! Fetch the child that was the cause of Iythrinel’s near death. Bring him to me.”

Legolas’ eyes widened, and he stood across the room, locking eyes with his father as they waged a silent battle of wills against each other. It seemed like an eternity before the boy was brought before them, shivering, eyes wide with wonder even still. He was so small, but he lifted his chin as he met the eyes of the king head on. Legolas was proud of the boy for that.

“So, you are the cause of all the ruckus? Such a small child.” Thranduil started, and the boy wrinkled his nose. He thought he was pretty big for other elven boys his age. But before the boy could defend himself, or even apologize, Thranduil went on.

“My best guard, personal guard, her life was almost lost for the measly likes of you. Did you know that? Were you ready to pay for her life with yours? And do you know the horrors of the orcs? What they would have done to you before they granted you final rest?”

Legolas understood that his father, still angry at Legolas himself, was simply taking his anger out on the child. But he was slowly inching to the realm of “too far.” He moved towards his father slowly, but his father had already snatched the child up, standing him right before him in a movement so fast the child was sure to have whiplash.

“Tell me everything that happened, every small detail. Where did they come from? How many? What were you doing out so late?”

“I-I don’t know, my Lord. I was just out walking and they came out of nowhere! I don’t remember much bu-”

“Think!”

The questions were unending, and as the child started sniffling that he couldn’t remember, trying to stay strong and not cry before the king, Legolas knew there was no stopping his father now. He left the room in a hurry, and his absence went unnoticed as he fled down the hall towards the room he knew Nel and Fae sat and made merry.

 

*****

Iythrinel and Faeilân had just started laughing when Legolas burst into the room. His hair, for once, was a mess of silver and gold around his face, his eyes wide as he searched the room for a moment, then met the eyes of Fae.

“Legolas?” Fae asked softly, while simultaneously Iythrinel, “What’s happened?” But as she went to move, pain lanced through her and she winced, Fae’s hand gently pushing her back down. It had been two weeks now. Two weeks since Faeilân had run from Bard’s arms in a hurry, racing with all the speed Ainur held to save Iythrinel’s life. But, because she had been so close to the Fade, Iythrinel still held the pain of the wounds, and still would for quite some time.

“Forgive me. But father suddenly remembered the existence of the child and now has him in interrogation.”

Faeilân and Iythrinel met each other’s eyes, and Faeilân didn’t even argue when Nel started to rise, but instead helped her up. Followed closely by the felines and Legolas, they made their way down into the depths of the palace, then into the heart where the throne room lay. Just as they entered the room, Thranduil sneered into the child’s face, his anger so much his glamour slipped.

“I don’t remember!” The poor child was by now a sobbing mess.

“TRY HARDER!”

“Thranduil!” the king turned sharply at the sound of Iythrinel’s voice. His glamour was back in place, and his eyes wide. It was now his turn to hold the expression of a child being scolded. Even Fae stared at him, shaking her head slowly in disapproval. Legolas was less than impressed as he helped hold Nel up.

“Perhaps you and Legolas should take the child home.” Fae’s voice was too calm, to quiet. Nel felt her shaking with anger, and she pulled herself away to smile sweetly and apologetically at the weeping child.

“Come, little one, let us take you home. Tell me, what is your name?”

“T-Thalion, m-my l-lady.” he sniffled, rubbing roughly at his eyes, puffing out his chest a little, “Are you feeling better?”

“Of course, Thalion. I’ll tell you all about it. Come on.” Legolas stayed to one side of Iythrinel as they started out of the room, Thalion on the other side, holding her hand as she chatted at him happily, trying to erase the horrors from his mind, Mistamor padding after them. He’d been through too much, and thranduil had no business interrogating him as he had. Iythrinel would have words with him later.

Iythrinel, after obtaining the location of his home, found herself where the servant elves lived; a son of servants. Swiftly she gave three strong knocks. She did not have to wait long for a maiden elf to open the door and look down at her with slight wonder and suddenly she was pulled into the woman's arms,

“I thank you Lady Iythrinel, my son has told me that you saved him, he has been distraught ever since though. The king seemed so angered when he retrieved him.”

Iythrinel pulled back and gave the woman a smile and clapped her hands on her shoulders. “It is my pleasure to have been able to help him madame. No longer fret for I have him now.” Thalion peeked from behind her at his mom, swiftly he was in her arms.

The maiden elf wiped at her eyes, for she had been worried for her son and looked at her. “He’s so shaken, was the king angered at him? We had thought him to still be tense because of your health.”

Iythrinel shook her head. “He is not level headed as of right now I’m afraid, I removed Thalion before too much damage could be done. He may be scared but there was no true harm done to him, our king would not truly allow anger to control him and hurt his own people. No matter how cold and cruel he may seem.” The mother simply nodded.

“Please come in my lady.” Following her into the home Nel looked around the simple home.  
Iythrinel stood in the living quarters as the maiden elf went off to place her tired and shaken son in his room. When she returned Nel resolved to do something for the boy, her interest had in fact been piqued when she saw him there in the throne room. She wanted to train him. He had potential.

When the maiden had settled she asked “May I ask your name?”

Wide eyes stared at her, “Of course my lady, I am Githa.”

Nel smiled. “Githa, I have a request I ask you to consider.” She took in a breath, “If you and your husband do not mind, I would actually like to take Thalion under my wing. I would like to apprentice him.”

Githa looked up with shock , “I will have to speak with Daeyinar. He is away at the moment, part of the scout. I have no doubts that he would accept such an honor.”

Nel nodded and sat up to leave. “I must take leave now, ask for me once you have made your decision. For now I have other, matters to attend to.” In her mind she envisioned Fae and Thranduil arguing, nearly at each others throats. As she walked to the door she remembered Legolas had been with her, as well as Mistamor. Upon leaving the home she was met with the confounding sight of a small striped cat hissing at a growling Mistamor, Legolas between the two trying to talk the large black feline down.

“Mistamor please, it’s just a cat.” Mistamor would have none of that however, but before much could be done Nel called out to her.

“Mistamor, Legolas, as much as this amuses me and as much as I would adore to let it happen, I do believe your father needs saving from Fae. If only to allow me to get on him about his unneeded actions as well.” She winced and her hand lifted to her wound. “And I can't make it there by myself for now.”

 

*****

 

Olórin found himself in the Hall of Eru, a frown creasing his flawless face. Just moment before, he had been hiking back down the hills of the Shire after marking a poor unsuspecting hobbit’s door. Now he was in the marble hall, meeting the eyes of his superiors. He lifted a brow; this couldn’t be good.

“My Lords and Ladies. I assume there is reason you’ve called me from my original task?” He tried his hardest not to sound annoyed, but there was only one of him, and he seemed to be tasked with far more than his fellow Maia. They were all still on earth, tending to their business.

Manwë, however, recognized his annoyance for what it was, and cleared his throat.

“Our young Fae is about to be tasked with the most important part of her mission yet. She will need you. Go to her.”

The Maia frowned in confusion at first, then his eyes widened. So soon? He had no chance to voice his concerns, as Faelan’s small family burst into the room, once more in all their fury and anger. Their youngest daughter was of course, this time, far from the fray of impending battle and hostility.

“She has only been married! You will not!” Already, Nielíqui and Òmar were in armor, ready to battle the rest of their family. Nielíqui stood to the right of her husband, their boys flanking them in a small triangle shape.

It’s about, to go, down; these were the thoughts of Olórin as he took a small step back and away, his brows lifted. He was not about to get into the middle of this. He thought briefly about taking Fae and running, but as he inched closer towards his exit, the small family was blasted back by an unseen force, pinned to the walls, their weapons clattering uselessly to the ground as Eru Ilúvatar himself made a very rare appearance. In fact, this was the first time anyone had seen him physically in thousands of years.

He stood tall, taller than all of them, wispy white and gold hair that fell down his back, and features that one couldn’t really tell rather he was male or female. His features were soft and womanly, but his form was muscular, as he only wore silk ties sashes to cover his sex. The being glowed with ethereal light as he towered over them all, his eyes opening slowly, glowing and ghostly white as he looked over his children, pinned to the wall.

This time, when he spoke, instead of the booming voice that usually echoed through the hall, it was a mixture, both deep and female and all male, commanding, hurt filled, confusion and wonderment in his tone.

“Why do you fight this? It has already begun. There is no other way, and she is married. This was the agreement.” He tilted his head, finally releasing them from his hold with a subtle blink, otherwise staring at them unblinkingly.

“But so soon? It has not even been a month since she was wed! Wed to an elf she doesn’t even love. At least give her a choice in this.” Òmar cried through his coughs as he struggled to regain breath after having it not only knocked from him, but choked as well.

Nielíqui was the first to regain her footing, and she stood fearlessly before the large Master of all, her head almost all the way back against her shoulder blades as she looked up to meet his eyes.

“She is mine. She is yours. Surely you feel her pain? Her sorrow?”

“It is my will, and it is done. Nothing will change, do not throw your lives away so easily, as I created each and every single one of you with care and love. Do not make me retake the life I so willingly gave. Because, little one, it can be done.”

He cast a glance over the rest of the room, and then just as fast as he appeared, Eru vanished, and a collective breath was released, as if all had been holding their breath.

“So it is done. By the will of our Lord and Master Eru Ilúvatar, in his own hall. It has been decided.” the strong voice of the Wind Valor echoed through the room, and with one last push of Eru’s powers, the small family was sent back to their section of the wood, and for once, Nienna wasn’t the only one weeping, Nielíqui joined her.

Olórin felt the pain of the small family as if it were his own. He was as close to Fae as they were, so he supposed he could call it his own. But he had been created for one purpose, and that was to obey his masters. He lifted his right arm and swept his cloak back onto his shoulders, taking on the guise of Mithrandir at the same time. His voice, now brittle and worn with the age of Gandalf, he looked up to his master and dipped his head a little.

“What would you have me do?”

 

****

Fae watched as Legolas and Nel escorted the child from the room, then turned to stare at Thranduil, still shaking, and making sure the small group was out of earshot before she turned on the elvenking fully with a sneer of her own, baring her teeth.

“That was low, even for you. Making an innocent child cry when you even hesitated to save your own friend’s life, more concerned about my identity at the time. How far the elves have come! No wonder Nienna weeps, for the creatures the Valor created are lead by the likes of you.” At this point, she knew, she had never been so angry. By doing what he had to the child, he had also, once again, hurt Iythrinel. Even, by a small part, the child had played a part in saving Nel’s life. And of course, Thranduil couldn’t see past his own stupidity and blindness to see this. The child was of his people. The child could have been killed.

She took a deep breath, and Thranduil had turned towards her to retaliate, but before she could, she lifted her finger, standing on her toes as she shoved her finger into his face, not even an inch from his nose.

“You will not speak until I am done. This is not my kingdom, but I will not-” her voice cut off, sharp, a groan lodging in her throat as a sharp pain sliced through her lower abdomen. She whimpered, and crumpled instantly, Thranduil looking on with a lifted brow as she went to her knees.

 ** _Faeilân? What is it?_** Ainur pushed up against her side, rubbing his cold nose to her cheek, and she let out another soft sound of distress. She heard the male feline gasp, and she looked at him with alarm.

“Ainur, what’s happening to me? C-Call for Mithrandir.” she fell onto her side as the pain increased, and frowned up at the blurry images of her useless husband and Ainur standing over her. Then she was suddenly in the air, being carried off to a room, which happened to be Thranduil’s.

“Is the child mine or the humans?” was all he asked, his voice cool and indifferent.

She stared up at him wildly, confusion marring her face. What was he talking about? The child? The one that had just left? She didn’t struggle as he carried her through the halls, up and down the stairs, and finally, laid her in his bed. For a brief moment, she wondered why it was he had brought her here instead of the rooms she preferred, her own.

“Is it mine? Or is it the barrel man? It is a simple question, really.”

“What are you on about, elf?” she grumbled, breathing a sigh of relief as the pain subsided a little. She looked up to see Thranduil’s gaze meeting her own. But it was Ainur who answered, seeming to be annoyed by Thranduil more than usual.

**_My Lady…..You are with child. And it is not natural. It is the work of the Valor._ **


End file.
